


Énoument

by Silvials



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Barebacking, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, M/M, Meet-Cute, Modern Bucky Barnes, More tags to be added, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shrunkyclunks, Therapy, if you count flirting while fighting aliens as meet cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2018-10-16 09:05:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 58,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvials/pseuds/Silvials
Summary: When Steve first met Sergeant James Barnes during the New York invasion, he flipped Steve off for calling him a civilian, then roundhouse kicked an alien in the face.They haven't stopped seeing each other ever since, and Steve thought it was normal for him to latch onto the first person who befriended him after coming out of the ice.Nope, turns out he was just pining.





	1. Remember to live 'cause you're gonna be thrilled to death

**Author's Note:**

> Enouement  
> \- the bitter sweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out but not being able to tell your past self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title come from the song Alligator Sky by Owl City

_They should have just left him in the ice to sleep in peace,_ Steve thought bitterly to himself as tore through another cluster of aliens, taking one by its scaly neck and flinging it towards the group that was advancing at his right. Steve watched with a hint of satisfaction as the force sent most of the creatures toppling over like dominoes but he barely even had time to gather himself before another group was swarming him.

Steve managed to raise his shield in time to deflect a blast from the Chitauri’s plasma guns. The impact was enough to rattle him and Steve feigned to be overwhelmed just to give them a reason to draw near. As expected, the aliens took the opportunity to charge at him full force, thinking they finally had him over powered. Steve waited until they closed around him in a tight circle before throwing his shield. It sailed through air in a neat circular motion, taking out most of the creatures but leaving a handful of them unharmed. Steve sprinted over to the other side and caught the shield, then twisted around to swing it at the aliens that were still standing.

When Steve looked up from the alien carnage, he found the streets still teeming with Chitauri. He scanned the area in search for a teammate but they were still scattered about the city in attempt to cover more ground. The only Avenger he could see was Stark; although he was too busy trying to draw the airborne Chitauri away from the streets.  He was mostly on his own now, save for the few police officers who were fanned out around the area. They were firing a quick succession of bullets at another cluster of aliens, although their aims were a little off and the bullets only aggravated the Chitauri instead of killing them.

The assault sent the aliens into frenzy.  They stormed towards the police officers with renewed vigor but Steve intercepted before the creatures reached them.  He threw a punch at the closest Chitauri then swung his shield and effectively snapped their necks. The remaining Chitauri snarled and scattered away from him. He grabbed the nearest one by the arm and clocked it in the head. The creature was sent reeling and Steve charged forward to plant a solid kick to its chest. The Chitauri slammed into an incoming aircraft and sent it crashing down upon a group of aliens coalesced on the sidewalk.

That didn’t stop some of them from climbing into the apartments to seek shelter however.

“Get the civilians out; I’ll take care of things here.” Steve told the officers as he crouched down to pick up his shield and thankfully all of them scrambled to obey.

The streets were almost clear now but Steve knew the fight was far from over. Aliens still streaked the sky in endless waves and at that moment, Steve thought he’s just about had enough of the 21st century. Now was not the time to be sulking but the thoughts helped him numb the ache in his bones and block out the rest of the world. Steve let his body to go into autopilot as he continued to pick off the Chitauri, allowing his mind to believe that he was still fighting Nazis alongside the Commandoes.

Steve didn’t stop until all the creatures were dead or dying on the streets.  Once the last of them crumpled to the ground, he turned around just in time to see the police corralling a group of civilians away from an apartment block.

“All clear,” Steve said as he jogged towards them, flashing a hesitant smile at the civilians who were gaping at him. “Is that everyone?”

One of the police officers motioned his head towards the second floor of the apartment. “A guy’s still in there. He offered to hold off the aliens so we could get everyone out.”

Steve followed the direction of the officer’s gaze and spotted at least four distinct shapes moving through the tinted windows. Most of them did not look human. “Get them to safety,” he told the officers distraughtly and broke into a run towards the apartment.

The electricity around the district had been cut off, leaving the hallways pitch black. The only source of light came from the row of doors ahead. Most of them stood ajar, allowing only a patch of sunlight to show through, although they did nothing but throw even more shadows against the paneled walls. Steve could see fine in the dark but he still couldn’t help but start every time the floorboards groaned under his footsteps. He instinctively raised his shield when he began to pick up the familiar screeches of the Chitauri but the shrill cries were reverberating too much for them to be nearby. He pressed himself against the wall and continued towards the source of the noise until it eventually led him into a dilapidated room at the end of the hall.

“All civilians out!” Steve yelled as he shouldered the door open and braced himself for an attack but then he was caught off guard when a shadow flipped past him and slammed an alien hard against the adjacent wall. He distinctly caught the figure flipping him the bird before he grabbed a rifle that hung from the wall and shot the Chitauri point blank in the head.

Another alien was behind the man, preparing to pounce at him. Steve was just about to shout a warning but the man cut him off first.

“Ain’t a civilian pal,” he said as he whipped around to disarm the Chitauri, then roundhouse kicked it in the face. A sickening crack resonated through the room and the alien went down with a loud thud.

The guy turned back to Steve, barely winded and looking a little smug. Steve thought he might be in love. Maybe just a little bit.

“You in the army?” Steve blurted. It probably wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say given their current situation, but the admiration he felt for the man took away his ability to think straight.

The guy slung his rifle over his shoulder and saluted Steve, “Sergeant James Barnes at your service." He offered him an easy smile; presumably to lighten the mood and Steve found that he was easily able to return it. Despite their initial encounter, the Sergeant appeared to be quite friendly.

“Steve Rogers,” he said as he extended a hand to James. It probably wasn’t the best time to do that either, not when there were still Chitauri running loose in the apartment, but then James was taking his hand like it was the most normal thing to do whilst surrounded by alien carcasses and debris.

“It’s nice to meet you Steve,” he said warmly. “And I kind of figured out who you were the moment you walked in here in spandex.” 

James’ tone was light and teasing and it made the corners of Steve’s lips quirk even though he didn’t want to indulge him.

 “This isn’t what I usually wear.” He adapted to a petulant tone as he feigned to look affronted.

James was eyeing him with amusement now and was just about to shoot back a clever remark when a distant screech resonated through the hallway.

“You should probably get away from there,” James said wryly. He was looking outside the door with the most unimpressed expression on his face, it almost seemed like he was bored. It quickly became clear that James wasn’t someone who was easily bothered by the thought of danger and Steve resisted another urge to laugh because it was like looking at a mirror.

“I think I can handle myself.”  Steve gestured the shield at him and James rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I know what you can do with that thing but I’m still helping you anyway because those things are fucking hard to kill.”

Steve wanted to protest but James was already crouched next to the center table, collecting two hand guns along with few cases of ammunition stored in the drawers. He stood up again once he was done inserting the items into his utility belt and paused to survey the room briefly. “Hey, I would offer you to sit but my apartment isn’t exactly in a presentable state.”

“And I’d love to stay if aliens weren’t attacking New York right now, maybe next time?”

“Oh, did Steve Rogers just ask me out on a date?”

Steve let out a startled laugh and hoped that it was enough to mask the internal conflict in his head. He wanted to indulge the idea of a date but he also thought it was an inappropriate subject to bring up to another man in the first place. James didn’t really seem to mind though. His tone was free of any disgust and his expression was open and almost playful. “What if I did?” The inquiry lacked a bit of confidence but it was barely noticeable.

Their conversation, however, was cut off by another loud screech.

James clicked off the safety on his handgun and patted Steve sympathetically on the shoulder. “You better reschedule then. Come on, I think I heard at least three sets of footsteps upstairs.”

“It’s gonna be hard to fight out there,” Steve called after him but James already disappeared into the darkness.

Steve hurriedly caught up to him, and they stalked the foyer side by side until they found a Chitauri crawling down the stairway leading to the second floor.

James got to it first, tackling the alien against the wall and twisting its weapon out of reach. It retaliated by kneeing him hard in the gut and knocking the wind out of him. When it reached out in attempt to claw his eyes out, James managed to get a firm grip around its hand and yanked it down the stairs to pass it over to Steve.

Steve swung his shield at the creature as a way of catching it, snapping its neck in one swift motion.

“Shit,” James breathed and slumped against the wall looking almost tipsy with delight. “I work better with you than with anyone else in my unit.”

“Not retired yet?” Steve asked as he stepped over the creature’s body and climbed a few steps ahead. He realized it sounded asinine the moment the words left his lips. James looked about Steve’s age when he crashed the plane into the ice, a little too young to be a veteran. Perhaps Steve just forgot that no one else had the same story as him.

“Well, I _would_ be retired if these aliens managed to wipe out all the terrorists.” James smiled at Steve when he met his eyes, as if to assure him that his question wasn’t so absurd. “This happens to be the second day of my leave actually,” he added sheepishly.

Steve winced. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with this.”

“Hey I’m sorry that _you_ have to deal with this. Duck!” James raised his rifle and shot at a Chitauri that was barreling towards them. “You’re what—two weeks into the 21 st century and you get aliens as a warm welcome?”

Steve thought back to when he signed up to fight Nazis and ended up fighting the leader of a psychotic cult with a red face. “I‘ve dealt with worse.”

“It’s probably a sign that you should change your lifestyle!” James yelled back to him. He was halfway across the second floor by now and tackling another alien that sprang out from one of the open doors.

Steve was about to rush over to help but another pair of Chitauri darted out to block his path. He threw his shield at them but only suceeded in knocking one of them to the ground. The other creature was quick to dodge however, and it didn’t hesitate to lunge at Steve once the shield clattered uselessly to the floor. Steve managed to throw himself away from its path in time. He snagged the Chitauri’s blaster as it passed him and the abrupt tug sent the creature sprawling over the railing. The Chitauri went limp once it crashed to the base of the stairs but Steve shot it a few more times for good measure.

“I happen to be doing fine with my current lifestyle,” he said, although the statement wasn’t quite dignified when he barely dodged a plasma blast that came from the Chitauri James was still grappling with.

A round of gunshots went off and then James was kicking the alien corpse away and picking himself off the floor. “You should really learn to watch your six.”

Another screech resounded somewhere ahead and both of them sighed.

“Yeah, I still have to work on that,” Steve grunted, taking off into a run and slamming into the alien before it even got the chance to detach itself from its hiding spot.

That was when Hawkeye’s voice suddenly blared through the intercoms. “Captain! We got a situation in the bank on 47th. They cornered a lot of civilians.”

“I’m on it.”

He shoved the alien towards James, who greeted it with a bullet to the head.

“Thanks,” Steve muttered and strode over to retrieve his shield from the floor. He began to move towards the stairs but skidded to a halt to glance back at James. It probably wasn’t the best idea to leave him in an apartment that was crawling with Chitauri.

“Hey, go do your hero stuff,” James said, as if he heard his thoughts. “I can handle things here.”

“I was about to tell you to get outta here.”

James broke a plasma blaster over his knee as if to prove his point. “No can do.”

Steve felt his admiration for the man blossom into something akin to fondness and this time he couldn’t keep himself from staring as he took in all of James’ features and stored them in a safe place at the back of his mind.  “You’re not gonna stop no matter what I say aren’t you?”

“If it makes you feel better, I kind of enjoy shooting at aliens.” James grinned at him as he gestured towards the stairs. “Well, the coast is clear.”

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“I think I can handle myself,” James mimicked Steve’s earlier words, waving his rifle at him.

Steve offered him one last smile and turned his back towards James before pangs of longing building up inside his chest started to cloud his senses.

“Stay safe, Sergeant,” he called out once he was halfway down the stairway and James peered at him through the gaps of the railings just so he could meet his gaze.

“You too, Cap. I’ll see you around.”

Steve forced himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other and tried not to look back until he was a good distance outside of the apartment. He found himself memorizing every detail, every street name, along with anything else that would help him find his way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea seemed more like a crack fic when I first thought of it but then the crack turned into slight porn and then somehow developed an actual plot along the way. I don't really know how that happened, but I really like the way it turned out.
> 
> Anyway, this fic would probably transcend until the events of Age of Ultron. I'm still trying to see if I can lay out the plot of Civil War with modern Buck but it's probably unlikely to happen because it would cause too many plot holes.
> 
> The updates might not be regular but I'll try to have the chapters up as often as possible. Thanks for reading guys! Leave a kudos if you enjoyed, or better yet leave a comment. Comments give me life.
> 
> If you have a [Tumblr](http://silvials.tumblr.com/), feel free to stop by to say hi :D


	2. There's a hole in my soul, can you fill it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song Flaws by Bastille.

Steve wound up at James’ apartment again, three days after New York had fallen back into a mediocre normality. He didn’t mean to visit so soon, and he only realized his mistake once he was standing in front of James’ door, counting the claw marks on the groves of the oak wood and contemplating on what to say when the door finally opened.

Steve was sure he was the only person in the city who hadn’t returned to a regular routine, although that was understandable since he didn’t have much of a life to go back to in the first place. He usually wandered the streets of downtown Manhattan every morning, trying to recognize in the place that he once knew so well, but today he decided to board a train heading for 46th street and somehow found himself walking towards the all too familiar apartment building without even knowing he had that destination in mind.

James’ wasn’t answering the door, which made Steve automatically assume that it was probably not the best time stop by. Everyone in New York always seemed to be busy, either with their jobs, their families or their own personal interests. They relied heavily on schedules and rarely had the time to make room for anyone else. The thought made him feel compelled to leave, to return to his own apartment and pick up the pieces of the life he had built for himself in the 21st century if it meant it would help him feel like he belonged.

Steve had to suppress a pang of disappointment as he shoved his hands in his pockets and spun on his heels to head back outside, but then he heard the lock click open, and he turned around to see James peering through the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked. There wasn’t a trace of recognition in his eyes, and Steve hastily introduced himself upon the realization that he had a mask on the last time they saw each other.

“Right, hey Steve.” James’ expression relaxed into an easy smile as he opened the door wider. “It’s nice to see you.”

Steve returned his smile, all his previous worries momentarily forgotten “Yeah, you too,” he said and instinctively gave the man a onceover in search for any visible injuries. “You’re okay right?” he couldn’t help but ask.

James only gave him an amused chuckle in response. “I think I should be the one asking you that after you ran off to fight aliens by yourself in a _onesie_.”

“It’s not a onesie,” Steve insisted, although he couldn’t help but grimace at the thought of the skin-tight suit he had been forced to wear because SHIELD didn’t have the time to steal his original uniform from a museum exhibit. He could tell James that he didn’t choose to wear a _costume_ to the battlefield, but James would easily dismiss that as petulant reasoning. It left Steve with no other choice but to grudgingly agree. “You’re right; I need to get a better uniform.”

That seemed to appease James enough. He momentarily dissolved into a fit of laughter then gathered himself with visible effort. “So what brings you here?”

Steve didn’t really know how to answer that either, so he shrugged and hoped his casual façade was enough to hide the eagerness beneath it.  “I thought I’d stop by to see how things are.”

“Well in that case, you better come inside…unless you’re too busy.”

“I honestly have nothing else to do,” Steve admitted as he followed James into the living room and settled on a spot on the couch where he was directed to. He took the time to scan the room and noted that everything was impressively in order even though the place had just been raided by aliens a few days ago. The apartment somewhat reminded Steve of the one SHEILD bought for him; although James’ appeared to be much more spacious and homely with the wide glass windows and the grey brick walls.    

“I guess being Captain America means that you’ve got no part time job?” James asked teasingly as he made his way over to the kitchen and began working on something behind the center island.

“Nope, I’m fully committed alright, which probably isn’t very practical since I ran out of things to fight three days ago.”

“You should go work for Starbucks, I’ve met a shit ton of baristas named Steve there.” James came around the counter carrying two mugs. He passed one over to Steve, who immediately flushed with embarrassment.

“You really didn’t have to.”

“Hey, it’s fine, you’re my guest today,” James stated as a matter-of-factly as he sat on the other end of the sofa and waited for him to drink it.

Steve took a hesitant sip and managed to stop a moan from escaping his throat once the taste finally hit him. It was a type of coffee that was overflowing with cream and foam, although it still strangely tasted like coffee rather than milk and even held a hint of cinnamon.

“That’s called a Cappuccino by the way.”

He looked up to find James gauging his reaction with slight amusement. “I think I might have just found my new favorite thing from the 21st century,” Steve told him.

James sat back against the couch, seeming a little pleased with himself as he tilted his head towards Steve. “Since you and I have the same taste, I’m personally taking charge in reacquainting you with the 21st century.”

Steve was about to protest, but thought better of it since James was the one who offered in the first place. The idea of having company wasn’t so bad. Maybe then his days wouldn’t be so terrifyingly endless if he had someone to spend his time with. “When do you go back on duty?”

James blinked at him in response, as if he’s forgotten that he was still on leave. “I’ve got about 26 more days,”

“Got any family?”

“Just me and my sister Rebecca, though she got married a two years ago and moved to D.C.”

He didn’t elaborate any further and Steve didn’t push. They both sank into a moment of amicable silence as they finished their drinks.

“Can’t imagine what it’s like for you though.” James was the first to speak up, although he shifted uncomfortably in his seat like he didn’t mean to voice his thoughts.

Steve didn’t want to decipher his thoughts, lest of unloading all of his pent up frustration onto someone he just met, but it would be unkind to James if he were to simply dismiss the topic. “The loneliness becomes a little too much to deal with sometimes,” he began, trying to keep a light tone just to shake of the despondency that was starting to settle over them. “I guess it just takes some getting used, and I would normally forget about it once I have something to do.”

“Feel free to come by anytime,” James said, giving him a hesitant smile like he was trying to be reassuring but didn’t quite know how to. “I’ll try to help you as much as I can.”

Steve felt a flood of warmth swell in his chest upon hearing those words. “Thank you, James.”

“You’re welcome.” James waved two fingers at him in a half-hearted salute. “Oh and by the way, I go by Bucky.”

Steve arched a brow at him. “Where’d you get Bucky out of James?”

“My second name is actually Buchanan.”

Steve felt his eyebrows climb up to his hairline. “You’re named after James Buchanan.”

“Hey, that’s a lot coming from you, Ulysses Grant.”

They both doubled over laughing before either of them could argue any further. After a few moments, Steve actually forgot that he no longer had asthma and Bucky was distinctly swiping away tears from his eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you Bucky,” Steve huffed once he finally got a hold of his bearings, and Bucky shifted sideways to face him.

“Tell me more about yourself.”

“You probably know a lot about me already.”

“No I don’t. I’ve never even been to any museum exhibits about you.”

Steve eyed him doubtfully.

“I really don’t! “ Bucky insisted,then paused for a moment of reconsideration. “Okay, maybe I have been to a few exhibits but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“You must know a little bit already.”

“I know that you like apple pie.”

“Really? That’s all you remember?”

“Don’t sass me Rogers, I can’t help it if my brain chooses to remember weird ass details. Besides it’s useful information. At least I’ll know what to get you the next time you drop by.”

“Can you bake?”

“Nope, can’t even cook if my life depended on it. I should probably introduce you to Becca, she makes the best cupcakes—and maybe even apple pie to if you ask her nicely.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She is, and you’re evading again. Come on tell me something about you.”

Steve actually felt himself wither under Bucky’s glare. _It was worth a try_ , he sighed to himself as he began to poke through his own thoughts in search for some information that wasn’t found in every history textbook. “I don’t think I really know myself anymore,” he confessed when he came up with nothing. “Every aspect of my life was suddenly centralized around the war; I feel a little lost now that I’ve got nothing to fight for.”

“What did you like to do before the war then?” Bucky asked.

“I used to draw a lot,” Steve answered with a faraway look, recalling the distant memory of cream-colored walls covered in crayon marks and his mother’s chiding voice. “I had the tendency to doodle on every available surface until my mom had enough of it and bought me a sketch pad with the money she was supposed to be saving up for a new radio.”

“You should do that then.”

“You want me to doodle all over your walls?”

“No!” Bucky looked like he wanted to smack Steve upside in the head if he could reach him. “I _can_ let you do that,” he mused. “But then you’re gonna have to repaint my walls and redecorate too and I don’t think I can trust you to do that.”

“A while ago you were just saying we had the same taste.”

“That’s not the point. You should start drawing again, it’ll keep you busy.”

“I don’t know.” The thought itself made Steve itch for a pencil, even though there weren’t much pictures forming in his mind. “I don’t really find much inspiration lately.”

“You will, you just need a little push,” Bucky assured, his gaze briefly drifting over to the remote perched on the center table. “How about movies then, you like anything in particular?”

“Disney movies,” Steve replied without a second thought. He hadn’t had the chance to watch a movie yet, but he remembered all his attempts to sneak off into the nearest theater during the USO tour just so he could watch _Dumbo_ and _Pinocchio_.

“That’s great then.” Bucky’s face lit up as he strode over to the bookshelf and started picking out a couple of DVDs. “I was supposed to introduce you to Netflix but I still got a shit ton of Becca’s old Disney movies and it’s about time I put them into use.” He turned back to Steve again once he finally decided on a DVD. “Are you up for a marathon today?”

“I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Steve responded, surprising himself when he managed to sound blithe instead of self depreciating.

They watched a few of the more recent ones instead, since Bucky insisted they would help Steve get more in touch with pop culture. There was an armchair situated next to the couch and yet Bucky still chose to sit beside Steve. He settled closer than before, to the point where their shoulders were almost brushing, and Steve could easily smell the natural scent of pine from Bucky’s collar. He didn’t have the heart to move away however, still too engrossed with relishing the warmth of another body, and he had to focus intently on the screen in order to stop his eyes from wandering over to Bucky.

Steve ended up staying for a lot longer than he had intended, and he didn’t notice how dark it was outside until he heard Bucky ordering another two boxes of pizza for the second time.

They called it a day after finishing _Brave_ and by that time, Bucky was already fast asleep on the armrest. Steve tried to extract himself from the couch without jostling the cushions too much but Bucky was already awake the moment he felt a vague movement beside him.

“Morning,” Steve greeted, making Bucky pause halfway through his stretch to glance out the window.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled and flung a pillow at Steve before resuming his nap.

* * *

 

“What do you think?” Steve asked, leaning against the doorway that lead to his apartment and absently fiddling with his sleeves as he watched Bucky scan the area.

“It’s cozy,” Bucky replied. His tone was perfectly neutral but it was painfully obvious that he couldn’t find anything else to say.

Steve didn’t have much to say about his own apartment either. He had been staying in the same one bedroom studio for almost three weeks now and yet the space was still unfamiliar to him.

The kitchen was barely used and almost spotless, the bookshelf by the front door was still empty, and there were barely any pictures to add a touch of personalization to the generic furnishings of the apartment. The only evidence that Steve had lived there at all was shield that was propped against the side of the couch. It wasn’t something he would normally associate with the word _cozy_ , which is why he preferred to stay at Bucky’s place every time they came back from their morning run.

Morning runs were Bucky’s idea; he had suggested it after Steve admitted to spending his free time hitting a punching bag until his knuckles started to ache. They would try out different diners around the city for breakfast afterwards, and then they would head back to Bucky’s apartment to talk about the most trivial things until the city outside grew silent.

That had become their routine for the last six days, which is why Steve was surprised to find Bucky standing at his doorstep the following morning.

“So what brings you here?” Steve asked once he was done showing him around the apartment.

Bucky grinned at him as he pulled a sketchbook out of his backpack and handed it to Steve. “Remember when I said you just needed a push in order for you to find inspiration?”

“This is the push,” Steve concluded, turning the sketchbook over to admire the etchings of the leather-bound cover.

“It’s more like a first step,” Bucky amended.

Steve felt his curiosity peak at the statement, which was a good sign since he couldn’t remember the last time he felt excited for anything.  “What’s the second then?”

Bucky proceeded to take him site-seeing for the next few days, starting out with something as simple as the subway or an outdoor cafe around the block and moving towards the more well-known places like Central Park and Time Square.

They’ve both seen these places a handful of times already. Bucky definitely wasn’t a stranger to the modern New York, but his love for photography allowed him to explore the city over and over again without making everything seem quaint. There were always new things to take notice, new areas to focus on, and he told Steve to document their trips around the city through a series of drawings the same way he did through monochrome photographs.

Soon enough, there was a collection of black and white photographs littered around Steve’s living room and a row of framed sketches hanging on the wall. His apartment finally looked like a place he would associate with the word home rather than a place he just tolerated for the sake of having a roof over his head. It surprised Steve so much that he decided to sketch out a _before and after_ layout of his apartment just too see how much had changed.

When Bucky found out about it, he dragged Steve out for another round of trips and encouraged Steve to do the same with the old and modern Brooklyn.  

Once they were down to the last week before Bucky was due to return to his duty, Steve’s sketchbook was already filled with side-by-side comparisons of the city along with a few sketches of Bucky that he accidentally drew whenever he was staring at a blank page. That was when it suddenly dawned on him that he was already in too deep.

It was hard to ignore his increasingly inappropriate feelings towards Bucky, especially when every day ends with Bucky falling asleep on him during the cab ride home. Steve knew it was acceptable for two men to be together now and admitting his feelings was something that he could easily bring up in a casual conversation, especially when there was a lot of casual flirting going on between him and Bucky. The only thing that held him back was the fear of losing whatever they had right now. Steve considered Bucky his friend and it was obvious that Bucky considered him the same but that was where the ended. Bucky might not want the same things that Steve wanted from him and Steve might end up ruining their friendship if he ever brought it up.

So Steve kept those thoughts to himself, although he still stole glances at Bucky whenever he wasn’t looking and continued to fill the pages of his sketchbook with portraits of Bucky’s smile.

* * *

 

Steve started having second thoughts one day before Bucky was supposed to return to Afghanistan. Since they were about to be separated anyway, he figured there wasn’t a more opportune moment to take the risk. Steve was just about to mentally prepare himself and confess to Bucky, but then his thoughts skidded to a sudden halt and he ended up bringing up something else entirely.

“Fury wants me to work for SHIELD.”

Bucky paused the movie they had been watching and shifted sideways on the couch so they were facing each other. “When did this happen?” he asked, a note of excitement in his voice.

“Right after the invasion,” Steve went on, knowing it would be hard to change the subject after mentioning something like that.  “He seems so keen on making sure I accept the job because he hasn’t stopped offering ever since.”

“And are you going to accept it?”

Steve only answered him with a vague shrug, leaving a moment of silence between them.

“I think you should take it,” Bucky suggested after a while. “It would give you a purpose, another reason to fight.”

Steve took the thought into consideration. Accepting was probably the best thing to do, especially when he would be on his own again for the next six months. “It’s kind of hard to trust an organization that keeps secrets in the middle of a world ending crisis,” he pointed out, although it sounded more like he was verbalizing reasons only to convince himself not to work for SHIELD.

“I know exactly how morally ambiguous these types of organizations can be,” Bucky began as he reached over to turn the TV off. “You don’t have to trust them. You just have to stick around to set them straight once they step too far over the line.”

Steve shook his head. “Fury’s not gonna listen to me.”

“He _will_ listen to you if you make sure he knows that you’re not taking any shit from him. And like you said before, he wants you on his side, so he’s probably not gonna complain too much about that.”

The firmness in Bucky’s tone suddenly made Steve question his decision. There was nothing left for him to do. He was a high-profile war veteran from the 1940s, it’s not like he could go about working for anyone else. He couldn’t exactly spend the rest of his life doing nothing either. The very thought of going back to the monotonous life he lived before he met Bucky terrified him even more than the possibility of working for an organization without any clear agendas.

“I guess I _do_ need more friends,” Steve said and grimaced once he was reminded of how often he complained about it. His loneliness wasn’t something he would openly tell anyone else about, and it seemed like Bucky was aware of it too with the way he was smiling gently at Steve.

“Hey, don’t act like this is the last time we’ll be hearing from each other, we’ll keep in touch” Bucky said, half-joking and half-reassuring. “This kinda feels like we’re entering a long-distance relationship,” he added with a huff of laughter then moved closer to Steve and gathered him in a hug.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, trying not to squeeze too tight as he desperately wished they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I planned to have this chapter up sooner but then I wasn't satisfied with the way it turned out and re-wrote almost half of it. I don't know if I have writer's block but it seems like I'm having a hard time getting a grasp my writing style. There's just something different about it and that's frustrating, especially when I prefer my old writing style.
> 
> Anyway, enough of that. I just laid out the entire plot for this fic and it's getting very exciting, although I don't really know how many chapters this work is going to have anymore because I don't want the individual chapters to be too lengthy. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :D feel free to leave a comment.


	3. Somebody I can turn to, somebody I can miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from the song Something Just Like This by The Chainsmokers ft.Coldplay.

Steve was staring at his phone on the bedside table again, just like he always did every day before he left for his morning run. It had become a habit for him to keep his phone within reach in case Bucky called or left a text message but for the past few days since Bucky had been gone, there was nothing but radio silence on his end. Steve carried on doing what he and Bucky used to do every day and tried not to think too much about it. He already had Bucky’s phone number, and Bucky even taught him how to set up a Facetime chat before he left for Afghanistan. Steve could easily call him whenever he pleased but as the days trickled by, he started to get the feeling that Bucky might not want to keep in touch like he had originally promised. Simply having his phone within reach eventually became an obsessive tendency of checking the home screen every few minutes, which is why Steve opted to leave his phone behind whenever he went to places.

That didn’t help much either, since the first thing he would do once he woke up was reach for his phone. Today was the only day Steve managed to resists the urge to check his phone simply because he was too tired to deal with a handful of unbidden thoughts that came after seeing an empty notifications tab. He went out for his morning jog with a clear mind, but the serenity was soon replaced by a poignant sense of nostalgia when something interesting that caught his eye and turned around to tell Bucky, only to realize he was alone.

It was even harder for Steve to keep Bucky out of his thoughts once he returned to his apartment, especially when everything was still the way he had left it. Bucky’s monochrome photographs of modern New York still hung side by side with Steve’s sketches of Brooklyn during the Great Depression. The bookshelf that had been empty a few weeks ago was already halfway filled with a collection of books that Bucky had given him. Steve had also gotten used to associating the left side of the couch to be Bucky’s and the right side to be his, and there was a small notebook perched on the left armrest where Bucky would list down the things that he wanted Steve to try out. The way Steve was looking forlornly around his apartment made him seem more like someone who was going through a bad break-up. It made him wonder how he could miss someone so much when he’s only known him for less than a month.

Steve didn’t go to the diner for breakfast anymore and instead chose to throw together something based on recipes he found online. His knowledge of cooking was only limited to steaming and boiling things, which is why cooking breakfast always resulted to a disaster in the kitchen. Steve always hated cleaning up afterwards but it was the only task that kept him busy all morning. He alternated between reading, drawing and watching Netflix for the rest of the day and the routine continued until he realized that he was slowly slipping back into the life he lived when he first came out of the ice.  He barely understood anything he watched after that, and it became difficult for him to gather enough mental stillness to read through the plethora of thoughts in his head.

By the end of the week, Steve had the contents of SHIELD’s debriefing file scattered all over his desk, already thoroughly scanned.  He was about to contact Fury to tell him that he had made a decision when his phone suddenly lit up with an incoming Facetime request.

Steve answered it on the third ring and miraculously managed not to knock his chair over while he grappled for his phone. “Hey,” he said, almost breathless as he tried to keep his heartbeat under control.

The smile that Bucky had greeted him with was momentarily replaced by mild concern. He canted his head closer to the screen and furrowed his brows in a way that was more playful than serious. “Is everything okay there?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Steve replied but couldn’t stop himself from wincing at his own blatant lie.

Bucky squinted at him without another word and moved the screen around as if he was trying to look over Steve’s shoulder. “Really?” he prodded, a hint of amusement now present in his gaze. “Because it seems to me like you’ve just had wild sex and you’re trying to hide it from me.”

“W-what?” Steve spluttered and felt heat creep across his cheeks when he registered the fact that he hadn’t combed his hair all day and was breathless when he first answered the call.

The screen suddenly blacked out and for a few minutes, and he could only hear the sound of Bucky presumably doubling over with laughter. The next moment he appeared back into frame again, his face was also flushed with the exertion of laughing too hard. “Now I know why you weren’t calling me.”

“Buckyyyy,” Steve whined in attempt to get him to stop and panned his phone around the apartment to prove he was alone. “Are you done yet?” he asked, trying to muster an unimpressed façade even though there was a smile tugging at his lips.

Bucky ignored his inquiry in favor of dissolving into another fit of giggles, and Steve proceeded to thump his head against the desk as he waited for Bucky to calm the fuck down.

“Okay, I’m done,” Bucky huffed after a while and slumped against his seat seeming utterly spent. “Tell me what you’ve been up to then.”

Steve shrugged, not entirely sure what exactly he had been doing all week. His eyes roamed across the room in search for an answer until he found the small pile of books stacked up on the center table. “I’ve been reading a lot.” _And sulking a lot_ , he resisted the urge to add.

Bucky visibly perked up at the mention of books and before they knew it, they were arguing over which Hogwarts house Steve belonged to, as if they hadn’t lost contact with each other for over a week. Steve thought he fell under Gryffindor but Bucky kept insisting that he was a Hufflepuff because apparently people always assumed that he was a Hufflepuff just because he was Captain America. In the end Steve had to remind him about _that time he fought aliens in a onesie_ but Bucky only pointed out that being a reckless idiot does not make him a wizard.

 “ _Anyway,”_ Bucky cut Steve off before the pointless argument could drag on. “What else have you been doing?”

“Not much actually,” Steve confessed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he avoided Bucky’s eyes. That was when he became aware of the SHIELD documents scattered around his desk. “I think I might take up Fury’s offer after all.”

The sudden announcement made Bucky’s face light up in a way that Steve tried very hard not to associate with the word _adorable_. ‘That’s great!” Bucky said and he looked like he wanted to pull Steve into an embrace if they were still on the same time zone. “Did you make the call yet?”

Steve shook his head and made a vague gesture at the screen. “I was about to but I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

He watched in amusement as Bucky subtly tried to mouth the words _oh_ shit but failed to hide it from Steve. “Do you want me to hang up?” he asked.

Steve protested a little too quickly at that and made Bucky raise a suspicious brow at him.

“You know,” Bucky began, keeping his tone playful despite the concern edging his voice. “When I gave you my number, I expected you to actually call it.”

Steve felt his cheeks color when he remembered his previous thoughts of Bucky not wanting to keep in touch. “Sorry, I thought you were too busy to talk.”

“It _has_ been one helluva week,” Bucky agreed then gave Steve a smile that was bright with encouragement. “Just send me a text message whenever you want to talk, I’ll get back to you.”

‘Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve said and returned the smile easily now that wasn’t a constant sense of apprehension weighing his thoughts down.

They talked a bit more about their day and even though there wasn’t anything particularly interesting at Steve’s end, Bucky still listened to whatever frustrations he had towards a plot hole in a book or a character he disliked in the most recent movie he watched. They exchanged their goodbyes once it was half-past midnight in New York and somewhere after dawn in Afghanistan. The deafening silence that followed after hanging up was something Steve had long grown accustomed too, although this time his apartment didn’t quite feel as lonely as it was before.

Steve reached for his phone again after shaking himself from his trance and dialed the number that was attached to the debriefing file.

Maria Hill’s voice cackled to life after a few rings. “This is SHIELD.”

“Tell Fury I’m in.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Steve woke to the incessant chime of the doorbell piercing through his sub-consciousness. He groaned as he strained to peer out the window adjacent to his bed and found that there was barely any daylight breaking through the sky. He directed his attention to the digital clock by his bedside, where the numbers 5:00 outlined his sleep-clouded vision in angry red. Steve had been a morning person for as long as he remembered but waking up before the sunrise was a lot earlier than he would have liked. It’s not like he could go back to sleep now with the sudden flood of hyperawareness that came with being jolted awake, so he reluctantly untangled himself from the blankets and managed not to roll unceremoniously onto the floor in the process.

Steve trudged through the living room still clad in pajama pants and a thin cotton T-shirt and nearly slammed into the door when he tried to peer through the peephole. There were two men in suits waiting outside his apartment, lined up in a row like a brick wall behind a familiar face.

“Coulson?” Steve called out, his brain still too leaden with sleep to properly process who he was seeing.

“Good morning Captain Rogers!” Coulson greeted cheerily, and Steve had to arrange his face into a more welcoming expression before answering the door.

“Good morning,” Steve returned the greeting, although it was less enthusiastic. He waited for Coulson to explain his presence but he already knew it had something to do with the call he made to SHIELD last night.

Coulson looked at him apologetically and stood up a little straighter as if he was suppressing the urge to shift from one foot to the other. “Sorry to wake you but Director Fury is expecting you at the Triskelleton in about two hours.”

“Of course he is,” Steve muttered dryly to himself because Fury was an asshole who liked to make last minute arrangements and expected everyone to comply. Some of the chagrin he felt must have shown through his carefully neutral façade, and he held up a placating hand when Coulson tried to apologize. “It’s fine,” he assured. “It’s not like I had any plans for today.”

The smile that Coulson gave him was practically radiating with excitement. “If you’re ready, there is a Quinjet waiting for you at the airport.”

“Okay, give me a minute,” Steve said and nodded hesitantly to the two other men who Coulson introduced as the chauffer and the pilot before rushing back into his apartment.

One and a half hour later, they were touching down on the landing strip of the Triskelleton, with Steve feeling more like a human and less like a zombie after having a heavy breakfast and falling asleep on the way to D.C. Coulson didn’t waste another second and led Steve straight the director’s office as soon as they got out of the Quinjet.

“I’m glad you finally decided to hear me out Cap,” Fury said the moment Steve pushed through the double doors. He was standing on the other end of the room, clad in the usual black leather that seemed starkly out of place with the environment around him. He casted an imposing shadow over the pristinely white furniture from his place by the windows and only turned around when he heard Steve’s footsteps approaching him.

“It’s kind of hard to ignore the files that keep showing up at my doorstep,” Steve responded wryly as he settled on one of the couches opposite Fury’s desk.

“It got you to change your mind,” Fury pointed out, mirroring Steve’s actions and settling on his office chair so they were at eye level.

“Yeah, I guess it did,” Steve remarked offhandedly. He didn’t exactly approve of what he read from the files but Peggy’s involvement with SHIELD and Bucky’s encouragement for him to find new purpose to fight for were the only two things that made him change his mind. “So, what’s this then, a job interview?” he asked, almost as an afterthought.

“Call it a job interview if you want but I’m here to debrief you one last time to make sure you’re really on board. I suppose you’ve already read the reports that have been sent to you?”

“Most of them.”

“Then I hope you know that what we do here isn’t usually by the book.”

“I don’t know if you’ve read my file but I don’t exactly play by the rules either,” Steve countered, making the director’s lips twitch into something akin to a smile of approval.

“Does this mean we’re not gonna be having any problems, Cap?” Fury asked and maintained eye contact even as he reached into the drawer and laid out another set of documents on his desk.

“Try not to keep too many secrets this time.”

“No guarantees, Cap. “ Fury actually gave him a full smile this time, although it resembled a grimace from the way it was forced. “Any other concerns that you would like to bring up?”

“Nothing else sir,” Steve replied, trying not to sound too clipped. It probably wasn’t the best idea to piss of the director of SHIELD on his first day.

“Good then.” Fury slid a set of documents towards Steve. “I’ll be putting you in charge of covert operations but you have to undergo a few weeks of basic training before you’re allowed to lead a strike team. “ He ignored the way Steve arched a brow at the words _basic training_ and continued before he could protest. “This isn’t the army anymore; this is espionage, and it requires very different skill sets from a soldier. Now if you agree with a few of our terms here, you’re good to go.”

Steve took a while to examine the contract that had been handed to him. By the time he was done, Fury had wandered back to the floor-to-ceiling windows and was watching the cars rushing by on the city below them. Steve cleared his throat to get his attention and placed the contract on the space that Fury had vacated with his signature scrawled onto the bottom corner.

“Welcome to SHIELD. It’s a pleasure to be working with you.” There was a surprising note of warmth in Fury’s tone as he extended a hand to him, and Steve had to blink out of his stupor to shake it.

“You too, Sir.”

“You’ll be meeting with the World Security Council and the Undersecretary tomorrow morning,” Fury reminded while he was walking Steve to the door. “We’ve rented an apartment for you near the headquarters; you’re welcome to stay there for the night.”

Steve turned back to Fury at the mention of another apartment, but he was already halfway out the door before he thought of asking about it.

He ran into Coulson again once he entered the lobby, although _run in_ wasn’t exactly the term Steve would use when he suspected Coulson had been there since they arrived at the Triskelleton.

“Where to now, Cap?”

Steve was still distraught from what Fury had told him, it took a while for him to realize that Coulson was addressing him. “This apartment that Fury mentioned,” he began. “Does he expect me to relocate there permanently?”

“It isn’t mandatory but it would be ideal for you to stay in close proximity of the Triskelleton so it would be easier to reach you if there are any emergencies,” Coulson explained in the same monotone he used whenever he was reciting facts, a subtle way to convey that there wasn’t any room for arguments.

“Okay,” Steve relented, the suppressed sigh evident in his voice. “Is it okay if I go back to New York tonight?”

“That can be arranged,” Coulson said then fired off a few commands into his earpiece before he led Steve back to the landing strip where the Quinjet was waiting.

He was quiet on the way back home, too deep in thought to notice when the scenery changed from D.C to New York. If both cities were so unfamiliar to him, maybe moving to the one that wasn’t haunted with obsolete memories would finally give him a fresh start.

* * *

 

“You’re moving to D.C?” Bucky asked later that night, obviously trying to be casual about it, but the way he schooled his expression only made him appear crestfallen. “Why so sudden?”

“Apparently, it’s part of the job,” Steve answered resignedly and leaned back against the couch. “They keep telling me that it isn’t mandatory and yet they all seem pretty insistent that I movie in as soon as possible.”

“They just want to push you around. Can’t you tell them to fuck off or something?” Bucky suggested.

The idea did cross Steve’s mind several times during the flight back home but every time he tried to tell Coulson that he refused to move to D.C, a strange sense of dread seemed to settle over him at the thought of staying in New York permanently. “The thing is, I think I might actually want to move?” he admitted. “I don’t know why but I think moving to D.C would finally help me let go of whatever I’m still holding onto here.”

“You sound like you’re going through a bad breakup,” Bucky pointed out, clearly attempting to diffuse the tension in their situation, but there was a look of understanding in his eyes.

“I’m not exactly well-adjusted,” Steve said flatly, earning him a snort from the other end of the screen.

“Damn right you’re not.”

“So what do _you_ think I should do?”

“Follow your heart,” Bucky replied in an exaggerated, mellow voice and sobered up a bit before he could break into a laugh. “No seriously, it’s up to you, Steve.”

“I’m not leaving permanently though,” Steve said, just to ease away the traces of sadness on Bucky’s face. “Coulson said I can keep this apartment so I’ll come visit you when you come back from your tour.”

“Or I could come visit you,” Bucky put in, his tone considerably lighter. “My sister lives in D.C after all, I could bring you over to meet her and maybe she’ll even make you some apple pie.”

“That’ll be great.” Steve smiled at him, feeling a slight in his heart at the thought of seeing Bucky in person again. It was ridiculous how he was already looking forward to something that was still months away, although it seemed like Bucky also shared the same sentiment with the way he was smiling back at Steve.

“It’s up to you, Steve,” Bucky repeated after a beat of silence. “It’s you’re decision to make but if it’s something that excites you then I think you should do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky echoed back firmly and glanced over his shoulder when there was a sudden commotion in the background. “The boys are getting ready; it must be late over there. Didn’t you say you have a meeting tomorrow?”

“Right, I guess I better go--”

“To fucking bed, Steve,” Bucky cut in before promptly ending the call.

“Okay mom,” Steve muttered, even though there was no one there to hear him. He checked the time on the wall clock hanging over the TV and found that it was already 2:30am. There was no chance he could fall asleep in time to wake up again at 5, so he chose to start packing his things instead. It didn’t take long since his apartment in D.C apparently came furnished and he didn’t have many belongings apart from his clothes and a box of other things that mostly came from Bucky.

By the time he finished packing, he still had the chance to watch the sunrise from the balcony one last time before Coulson showed up at his doorstep.

* * *

 

It turns out the meeting with the council wasn’t so eventful after all.

Steve spent a good part of the morning sitting in the conference room with the World Security Council as they rattled off their ideologies and the reason to why their organization was established. Then they proceeded to give Steve a history lesson on SHIELD as if he didn’t read any of the files that were sent to him. The session wrapped up with council members sharing a toast and giving individual speeches on how they were grateful to have an American icon on their side. By this time, Steve barely comprehended anything they said and was only nodding and smiling at regular intervals out of politeness.

The other half of his morning was spent with Alexander Pierce, who personally took charge of showing Steve around the headquarters and introducing him to the staff. As much as Steve wanted to commit every name to memory, most of the people he met didn’t say anything remarkable to remember them by. They either chattered endlessly about being a big fan of him or were too flustered to say anything at all. After a while, the faces and the names started to blur together, so Steve chose to focus more on memorizing the labyrinthine layout of the Triskelleton.

When Steve was finally dismissed for the day, he was genuinely surprised to find Natasha Romanov waiting for him at the lobby instead of Coulson. They don’t know each other very well and it’s been a while since Steve last spoke to her but after spending hours in the company of strangers who knew too much about him, it was a relief to see a familiar face.

‘They finally let you out?” Natasha asked, raising a brow at him as he approached the lounge.

Steve sighed and flopped into the armchair next of her. “Did they also put you through this back when you were a new recruit?”

“Nope.” Natasha reached over to pat him on the back consolingly. “I guess it’s a privilege that comes with being a national icon.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Steve huffed.

“Don’t worry, they’re probably not going to bother you until you start running missions,” Natasha reassured, although Steve wasn’t able to take comfort in her statement, especially with the slightly mischievous smirk that came with it. Natasha stood up a moment after they fell into an awkward silence and beckoned Steve towards the elevator. “Come on, Coulson’s busy at the moment so I’ll be the one to show you around the apartment.”

“I think my things are still in the Quinjet,” Steve said as he hurried to catch up to her.

Natasha didn’t respond and instead pulled out her phone without breaking stride. She tapped on it a few times then put it back into her pocket with a look of satisfaction. “It seems like your things already arrived in your apartment before we did.”

* * *

 

The apartment turned out to be a nondescript building located at the end of an intersection, where streets surrounding it weren’t quite as busy and the sidewalks weren’t teeming with people. It felt strange for Steve to see an aloof neighborhood after spending a few months living in the heart of Manhattan, but he wasn’t surprised since he already expected SHIELD to choose a place that would help him keep a low profile.

“Here it is.” Natasha made a sweeping gesture across the space after unlocking the door for Steve. “There’s nothing special about it, except maybe the fireplace and the extra bedroom.”

“Yeah,” Steve hummed absently as he took in the layout of the apartment. The front door opened up into a sitting area that consisted of a brick fireplace, an empty bookshelf and a single armchair. The kitchen was in a separate room right next to it while the rest of the flat led to the living room and the dining area. At the far end of the space, there was a set of doors that he presumed were the two bedrooms.

“So what do you think?” Natasha’s sudden inquiry snapped him out of his trance.

A dozen words flitted across Steve’s mind but the only one that stood out was the word _bland._ “It’s cozy,” he remarked, remembering what Bucky said the first time he saw Steve’s apartment back in New York.

Natasha, as inquisitive as she was, saw through his reaction almost immediately. “Maybe I could get them to find another place for you,” she offered. “This one’s a lot farther away from SHIELD than I expected.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said as he set his things on the floor and made a show of looking appreciatively around the flat.  “This place just needs a bit of work but it’s fine. I like having a blank canvas anyway.”

Natasha didn’t seem convinced that he wanted to stay here but she thankfully dropped the subject in favor of another. “Do you want me to help you unpack?”

“Uh…” Steve’s thoughts stuttered to a halt for a moment, caught between the desire for company and the desire to be alone at the same time. “Thanks but I don’t really have much to unpack. You’re welcome to stay though.”

“How bout we go get a coffee instead,” Natasha suggested. “Are you free tomorrow morning?”

“I’ve got a free schedule all week.”

“Great. Meet me at the Starbucks around the corner at about 9. I heard the coffee there’s amazing.”

“I know what Starbucks is,” Steve called after her as she made her way to the door.

“Yeah but you probably haven’t heard of the secret menu yet,” Natasha said over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” She waved Steve goodbye and pulled the door shut before Steve could properly process what happened.

* * *

 

“She asked me to meet her for coffee tomorrow,” Steve told Bucky while he was showing him around the apartment via Facetime. “Is that how you start a friendship with someone these days?”

“I gotta tell you something Stevie,” Bucky said and made a _tsk tsk_ noise as if it was a serious matter. “Not everyone gets to know someone while kicking ass. Did I actually set the bar too high?”

“It’s a special kind of friendship.”

“It definitely is but anyway, getting coffee is usually how most people start to hang out, though judging from what you said, I think she might be into you.”

Steve spluttered, which he never thought would ever happen again after he got used to Bucky’s tendency to say the most outrageous things. But it did. And Steve was at a loss of what to say next.

Bucky took his lack of a response as a chance to continue. “Come on, it’s obvious at this point. She took you to your new apartment and stayed to see if you needed help. When you told her you were fine, she asked you for coffee the next day.”

Steve’s face contorted into a frown, which must have seemed more like a pout because it made Bucky crack up. “Is that how it works?”

“It’s definitely how it works. Now stop being bitter about it and get laid.”

The screen went blank all of a sudden, leaving Steve in the unfamiliar silence of his new apartment. He sighed and slumped back against the chair as he tried to decipher the incredulity and disappointment raging a storm in his heart. He found himself replaying Bucky’s statement in his mind for the rest of the day, until it became evident that Bucky didn’t want him the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few clarifications: Let's just pretend that Coulson never got stabbed to avoid any complications. For those who had trouble visualizing Steve's new apartment because I am terrible at describing interior layouts, [I hope this visual aid helps](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBi29OnappU). 
> 
> This chapter went from "wow I'm doing great" to "what the fuck am I doing" real quick. I hope the outcome isn't too bad and I hope it doesn't feel rushed either. Right now, I'm just trying to condense as much events I can into one chapter because I am nowhere near the actual plot and I don't want this story to have too many chapters.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and sticking around. Leave a kudos if you enjoyed, or better yet leave a comment :D 
> 
> I'll try to have the next chapter up soon.


	4. To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from the song Someone New by Hozier

Natasha was already waiting for him at the designated Starbucks by the time Steve finished his morning run. She was sitting in a booth next to the window with her face drawn in concentration as she studied something intently on her holographic Starkpad. She didn’t appear to notice him as he approached, but Steve knew from experience that no one can get within a 10-foot radius from Natasha without her noticing.

“Finally decided to show up?” She asked in lieu of a greeting and waited for him to settle onto the seat opposite of her before putting the Starkpad away and flashing him a smile.

Steve glanced at the wall clock behind him ducked his head guiltily when he realized he was 20 minutes late. “Sorry, I went back to the apartment to shower.”

Natasha waved him off half-heartedly and stuffed her hands into her jacket as she slid out of the booth. “Stay here, I’m gonna order for us,” she said, even though they agreed beforehand that Steve was paying for the coffee. She strode off to the counter without waiting for a reply and was far out of earshot by the time Steve thought to protest. She came back with two tall cups and pushed the one she identified as a Pumpkin Spice Latte towards Steve.

“It’s good,” Steve commented after taking a sip. The drink was a little too sweet for his liking; although it wasn’t entirely a lie since the rich flavors that laced the espresso were enough to make up for the excessive sugar.

Natasha sat back looking very pleased with herself while she sipped at her own drink.

A brief moment of silence passed between them and the only thing that kept it from becoming awkward was the general chatter around the café. They both struggled to find something to break it, but it was Natasha who spoke up first.

“So what have you been doing all this time?”

“Just catching up,” Steve answered, the statement already becoming trite with the number of times Bucky asked him the same question. “I’m on Netflix a lot,” he added for the sake of opening up another topic.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed at that. “You’ve discovered Netflix already?” she asked incredulously. “I didn’t discover Netflix until a year after I moved to the States.”

“I had a bit of help,” Steve said, careful to keep the fondness out of his expression.

“From who?” Natasha visibly perked up with interest as she set her coffee cup aside and leaned forward. “Did Stark show up at your apartment to demonstrate how to use all the _strange machines_ in your kitchen?”

“N-wait he was serious about doing that?”

“Yes, he thinks you’re as clueless as an actual nonagenarian. I’m surprised he hasn’t done it yet.”

Steve shook his head. “That’s typical of Stark but no it wasn’t from him, it was from a Sergeant I met during the invasion.”

“During?” Natasha repeated, arching a brow at him.

“He refused to leave when I was evacuating his apartment block,” Steve clarified and couldn’t stop his mouth from quirking into a wistful smile. “He gave me the finger for calling him a civilian but it turns out he’s actually pretty good at kicking ass.”

“And you’ve been keeping in touch with him ever since?”

“He’s responsible for all the pop culture references I know.”

“He’s been doing a terrible job then,” Natasha muttered, loud enough for Steve to hear. He was about to quip that he knew a fair amount of pop culture for someone his age, but Natasha cut him off before he could. “Who is this Sergeant anyway? Maybe he would be interested to join SHIELD.”

“His name is James Barnes and he’s still on active duty,” Steve replied. “He just returned to Afghanistan a week ago.”

Natasha winced upon hearing that. “Wow talk about timing. Have you been doing anything new since he left?”

Steve didn’t really know himself. He considered the past few weeks to be productive, although his days tend to blur together in a flurry of activity while he was constantly searching for something to keep himself occupied. In the end he settled for _cooking_ and Natasha fixed him with an unimpressed look.

“That’s boring, Rogers.”

“What do you suggest I should do, tap dance?”

“That’s a useful skill; you never know when you’ll need it.”

“Thanks,” Steve said dryly. “I’ll be sure to put that on my resume next time.”

“But seriously,” Natasha continued after giving it a rest for awhile. “You should try doing something better with your free time.”

“Like what?”

“You could tour the city, try out the food, and maybe go out on a date while you’re at it,” she emphasized the latter with a noncommittal shrug, and Steve couldn’t stop himself from making a face while he was stifling a sigh.

“I used to think you were the mature one,” she added when she saw his reaction.

“I’m not well-adjusted enough for that,” Steve argued, which had become his default statement to everything lately.

“You’ll need someone to help you get adjusted then,” Natasha fired back.

Steve managed to avoid taking his frustration out on the table by thumping his head repeatedly against it. He promptly tried to change the subject but because Natasha was relentless, the conversation dragged on, and they somehow ended up talking about a few women who were evidently interested in Steve. Most of them were working in different sectors at SHIELD, and Natasha even went an extra mile and told him about the nurse living across the hall from him. It was a relief to know that Natasha wasn’t interested herself like Bucky had surmised, but the idea of being set up on a blind date was even more unsettling.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Natasha persisted, in a last attempt to get him on board, “and you can finally put that second bedroom into good use—or maybe your own bedroom too.”

Steve choked on his coffee as he felt himself go beet red. “Natasha!”

“What?” She blinked at him with mock innocence, though it was obvious that she enjoyed watching Steve squirm. “Oh, sorry, I forgot that you were the type of guy who likes to take things slow.”

“I’m not actually sure of what I want so maybe now’s not the best--”

Steve trailed off when Natasha’s phone began beeping wildly but she flicked it off immediately in favor of pestering him some more.

 “You’ll give it a try eventually right?” she asked.

It’s not like Steve had much of a choice with the way Natasha phrased it, but he decided to indulge her for now just to get her to stop harassing him.

“Fine,” he grunted, making Natasha’s face light up the same way it did whenever she walked out of a successful interrogation.

They sank into silence again, which was strangely more comfortable despite the conversation they just had. At some point, Natasha’s phone started to beep again, and she downed the rest of her coffee before pulling the nuisance out of her pocket.

“Apparently, I’m expected at SHIELD in 5 minutes.”

Steve looked at her apologetically but there wasn’t an ounce of remorse in his tone when he said, “I hope you don’t make it in time.”

That seemed to catch her off guard for a moment, and Steve was about to apologize for the possible offense when he realized Natasha probably didn’t expect _Captain America_ to say something like that.

“You’re funny, Steve,” she told him wryly as she gathered her things stood up. “See you next week.”

“What about next week?” Steve asked.

“It’s the first day of your new job,” Natasha said, her expression perplexed. “Didn’t Fury tell you?”

_Typical Fury_

“Not yet,” Steve replied, sinking back into his seat in exasperation. “Fury thinks I have nothing better to do.”

Natasha agreed with him on that, and Steve didn’t even bother to dignify her with a response.

* * *

 

Steve didn’t know that Natasha was serious about introducing him to someone until she brought it up again a week later while they were on the way back home from a mission.

They had just come from a dilapidated base somewhere at the borders of South America, where an ex-SHIELD trainee was hiding out after he had stolen valuable Intel for a group of mercenaries. The assignment was meant to be Steve’s trial run with SHIELD, which was easy enough since the mercenaries that the trainee was working with turned out to be a group of inexperienced amateurs who didn’t quite know what to do with the data they had acquired. The mission would have been over in under an hour if the makeshift base wasn’t rigged with a bunch of IEDs. They weren’t strong enough to cause any serious damage apart from a few cuts and burns but they certainly served as a good distraction to aid an escape. By the time Steve and Natasha managed to wrangle up all the mercenaries from the city, Clint Barton was already waiting for them at the extraction point.

 After securing the prisoners to the back of the Quinjet, Natasha sauntered over to the hull and invited Steve to play cards with her as if they weren’t covered in dirt and shrapnel. The rest of the ride was blessedly silent as they finished a couple rounds of Poker, but Natasha eventually grew bored after losing twice and decided to make small talk instead.

And by small talk, Steve knew she meant harassment.

“Do you know Agent Claire?” Natasha asked as she was gathering the cards back into the box. “I think you already met her the last time you were at the headquarters.”

“Why would you introduce Cap to _Claire?_ ” Clint chimed in from the cockpit, his tone incredulous. “She’s a slut.”

“Hey,” Natasha snapped. “You can’t assume that about someone you’ve only spoken to once.”

“Well, I heard she cheated on everyone she ever dated, so I wouldn't want to get to know her if she just wants a quickie,” Clint said and twisted over to look at Steve. “Don’t go for that Cap, she likes to sleep around. Agent Skye on the other hand--”

“I think she’s already taken.”

“You can’t assume that about somebody you’ve only spoken to once,” Clint parroted her earlier words like it was a philosophical passage and spun back to the controls just as Natasha flicked a card at him.

“Wait,” Steve interjected before things could escalate. “I thought I said I would give it a try _eventually.”_

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. “I have to actually find you a date before _eventually_ comes, you could at least help me out here.”

“Well I’ve always liked brunettes,” Steve found himself saying as he thought of Bucky, and he only realized he had said that out loud after he blinked himself out of his reverie and saw Natasha’s delighted expression.

“Thank you for narrowing it down,” she said. Then she took the cards out of the box again and asked Steve to play Go Fish with her.

* * *

 

The three of them kept getting deployed into increasingly harrowing missions for the next few months.  According to Fury, he liked the way they effectively got things done by working together, but Steve suspected that was just a cover up to hide the fact that all the other field agents spontaneously took a vacation when they heard that Captain America was joining SHIELD.

Steve didn’t mind the constant work though. The missions helped him keep his loneliness at bay, and he could tell it did the same for Natasha and Clint as well.

It also became a routine for them to hangout during or after every mission. Whenever they were sent to a far-flung location, they made it a habit to try out the strangest things they found on the menu of a local diner. Afterwards, they would cramp into a single motel room to criticize whatever was on TV and play Poker instead of sleep. When they _do_ get to go back to D.C, they would have movie marathons at Steve’s place because Clint’s farmhouse didn’t have cable and no one really knew where Natasha lived.

It wasn’t enough to fill the void that came with living in a completely different century, but Steve was contented with watching shitty reality show and having nonsensical conversations with the people he barely knew but still considered as friends. Maybe that was what Bucky wanted for him when he told Steve to join SHIELD.

He still talked to Bucky constantly, but since their schedules weren’t flexible enough to allow them to Facetime, they flooded each other with text messages instead. They texted each other so often that Bucky started adding the word _honey_ at the end of every message because his entire unit thought Steve was his sweetheart. Steve didn’t know what to make of it and went with it as casually as he could, although he couldn’t help the slight swell of warmth that pooled in his stomach every time Bucky came up with a new pet name for him. He knew it was just an illusion of intimacy, but the fact that Bucky was willing to play along meant there was a chance he reciprocated what Steve felt for him.

* * *

 

They were given a three week leave after their latest mission went awry and most of them sustained injuries that wouldn’t be able to heal within a few days. Natasha had taken a stab wound to the gut while she was trying to fight off two guys at once, Clint had a concussion, and Steve came back to D.C with a broken arm and bruised ribs, only minor injuries for a super soldier. Steve didn’t know if Fury was aware of his accelerated healing, but he wasn’t going to complain about being given an extended vacation.

Predictably, once Natasha was discharged from the SHIELD medical wing, she showed up at Steve’s doorstep the next day and asked if it was _eventually_ yet. She wedged her foot against the door when Steve tried to slam it in her face and impressively managed to shoulder her way past him despite her small stature.

“I met this girl named Eva who works at Human Resources,” Natasha announced and plopped on the couch like she hadn’t been stabbed just a few days ago. “She’s a brunette with a wicked sense of humor, exactly your type—or at least I assume is exactly your type. I don’t really know since you haven’t told me anything aside from hair color.”

“I’m on injury leave, Nat,” Steve answered simply as he sat next to her and resumed flicking through his Netflix queue.

“You don’t look very injured.”

“I’m a senior citizen, I need time to heal.”

“You’re already—oh for God’s sake,” Natasha broke off into a sigh as she reached over and snatched the remote from Steve’s hand. “Are you aware of how pathetic you look right now?”

“I’d look less pathetic if I was watching a movie right now.”

“You know I had to pretend to make friends with Eva just to get her number for you. Do you know how much I hate pretending to make friends?”

“I didn’t ask you for her number.”

“Well, someone has to take the first step for you because you’re clearly never going to do it.”

“I’m 95, Nat, I do things slower compared to the rest--”

“Okay fine,” Natasha growled, clearly fed up with all the old man jokes, and tossed the remote at his head. Steve caught it easily before it got the chance to sail through the air and pressed play on _The Wolf of Wall Street_.

“Do you want some popcorn?” he asked.

Natasha only scowled at him in response and scowled at the screen for the duration of the movie. Once the credits were finally rolling, she stood up sharply, grabbed Steve’s wrist and pressed a scrap of paper with Eva’s number into his palm.

“You better call her over the weekend,” Natasha said, then she made her usual dramatic exit by slamming the door behind her as she left.

Steve didn’t end up calling Eva over the weekend because he was too busy touring the city on his new bike. Natasha started sending him death threats when she found out, and Steve responded to them by sending her random pictures of pebbles or concrete walls with a caption that said he was touring D.C like she had previously suggested.

Natasha stopped trying to track him down after that, and Steve was able to spend the rest of his vacation in peace.

* * *

 

Regardless of Steve’s obvious aversion to dating, the matchmaking continued, and it got even worse when Clint was sent on a solo mission to track down a rogue agent somewhere in Asia, leaving Steve and Natasha to work together. They were occasionally accompanied by the STRIKE team but whenever they were running missions by themselves, Natasha grew bolder and started bringing up names during the most inconvenient situations, whether they were in the middle of an interrogation or one of them was attempting to detonate a bomb. It was becoming harder and harder for Steve not to say yes but at this point, he was only deflecting to see if he could out-stubborn Natasha.

Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

Steve hadn’t quite come in terms with his feelings yet but it felt wrong to want more from Bucky after he had already taken so much from him. Bucky could have closed the door on his face when Steve appeared outside his apartment two days after the invasion. They were practically strangers back then and yet Bucky chose to drop whatever plans he had made for himself to make sure Steve had company in an unfamiliar place.

Steve hoped he wouldn’t have to see Bucky anytime soon. It was easier to keep a façade through a video call or a text message, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself from blurting out something embarrassing if they saw each other face to face again. While Steve was putting off deciphering his emotions for as long as possible, time continued to tick by seamlessly and after months of denial, late night text conversations, and a few life-threatening situations, Steve was genuinely surprised when Bucky called to tell him that he was finally allowed a two week leave.

“Seriously Steve,” Natasha was rambling on two hours before Bucky was due to arrive at the Washington airport.”If you don’t call any of the numbers I gave you, people are gonna start to think you’re a playboy.”

Steve hummed for the sake of a response and shifted in his seat again for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. They were finally on board the Quinjet after a twelve hour delay in their latest mission. They were fortunate enough to have made it out unscathed but at the moment, all Steve could think of was how he was supposed to pick Bucky up from the airport if he was halfway across the world.

“I pretended to make friends with those people to get their numbers,” Natasha went on, fully aware that Steve was distraught but was trying to draw him out of his thoughts. “You could at least reward my efforts by going on one damn date.”

"I don’t think I can go on a date anytime soon.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Steve began and broke off into a sigh as he gathered himself, unsure of how to phrase it. “I think I like Bucky,” he finished lamely.

Natasha was silent for a moment, a mix of surprise and disbelief crossing her expression. “You had a crush on the Sergeant all this time and you didn’t bother to mention it?”

“I wasn’t sure if I liked him that way at first,” Steve reasoned, although he could tell that Natasha knew it was a lie by the way she tilted her head towards him. “I don’t think he feels the same way for me,” he corrected himself. “I thought I would be able to get over it if I just didn’t acknowledge it at all.”

“I never thought you were the type to run away from your problems.”

“I am not running away, I’m just—”

“Ignoring them is the same thing,” Natasha cut him off with a knowing smirk. "You have to deal with it head-on.”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “I don’t know how.”

“You can start by telling him,” Natasha said, like it was the easiest thing to do. Steve wished it was as easy as it sounded, but he didn’t want to risk ruining his friendship with Bucky just because he was horny.

“You said he’s coming today right?” she asked, pulling him out of his thoughts once more.

“Yes, in about two hours. I promised to pick him up from the airport but I still have to turn in the report to Fury.”

“You want me to pick him up instead?” Natasha offered. The look on her face was more curious rather than questioning.

“You want to pick Bucky up from the airport?” Steve echoed, unsure if he heard it right.

“Call it a chance for me to… _asses_ him.”

Silence descended between them as Steve took her offer into consideration. Sending Natasha to pick Bucky up from the airport would give him more time to figure out what to do with his unbidden emotions, and he wasn’t about to pass up the chance. “You’re not gonna interrogate him are you?”

“I promise to be subtle about it,” Natasha said, as innocent as she could with the smirk still on her lips. “Do you have a picture of him?”

Steve scrolled through his photo library and selected a stolen shot he had taken of Bucky while they were in Coney Island.

Natasha whistled as she peered over his shoulder. “Wow, he’s hot.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this isn't my favorite chapter mainly because I find it very difficult to write fast-paced chapters without having it feel rushed. I love narration and prose and internal monologues but I can't really do that here because I'd end up with chapters that are packed with too much unnecessary information. 
> 
> Anyway, I did try to revise this but I only ended up staring at my laptop screen for 4 hours everyday (which is the main reason for the delay, sorry). In the end I saw that there was no point to screaming at my laptop and decided to post this chapter as is so I can finally get the plot ticking on the next one (and it's going to be very exciting for Steve and Bucky).
> 
> Leave a kudos if you enjoyed and let me know what you think in the comments.


	5. We ain't leaving this room 'til we both feel more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song Let's Hurt Tonight by OneRepublic

Steve was held up at headquarters for almost two hours after Fury read his report and demanded a detailed explanation on _why the fuck you destroyed so many motorcycles._ Steve saw no point in having to explain his tactics to someone who wasn’t even on the field with him, but he couldn’t exactly snap at Fury either given the fact that it wasn’t the first time he lost sight of his shield in the middle of combat and decided to use a motorcycle as a substitute. Instead, Steve opted to show his restlessness by shifting in his lounge chair once in a while and continued doing it in regular intervals until the groaning of the leather cushions irked Fury enough to let him go.

“Get that damn shield magnetized next time before you break anymore equipment,” Fury grumbled and took the time to gather all the paper work into a file before _finally_ dismissing him.

Steve simply responded with a curt nod and headed straight for the garage to retrieve his bike. He tore through the rush hour traffic with a single-minded purpose but it wasn’t until he was climbing the steps to that led to his apartment when he realized he still had no idea how to come clean to Bucky. He was thrumming with nervous energy by the time he made it halfway across the lobby, but then he spotted a familiar redhead from the corner of his eye and immediately latched onto the distraction.

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve asked as he approached the figure who was sitting in one of the lounge chairs, idly flicking through a magazine.

“He’s upstairs waiting for you,” Natasha answered without looking up from whatever she was reading. “I got the feeling that he didn’t like me very much so I thought I’d leave him alone for a while.”

“Oh God, Nat,” Steve groaned, knowing full well that she must have said or done something terrible to piss Bucky off. “I told you not to interrogate him.”

“I did not.” Natasha raised a placating hand but her statement wasn’t quite convincing when it was followed by her usual Cheshire grin. She set the magazine aside and walked up to Steve to poke him in the chest. “He definitely likes you.”

That managed to scramble Steve’s thoughts enough to leave him staring blankly at Natasha as he struggled to process her words. “How are you so sure about that?”

Natasha gave him an unimpressed look, which had become common whenever they were talking about something related to Steve’s nonexistent love life. “I didn’t say anything offensive to him; he’s just acting bitter around me because he thinks we’re dating.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“It’s you job to clear things up. He’s jealous and a little insecure and now’s the perfect time for you to go sweep him off his feet.” Natasha had nudged him all the way to the stairwell as she spoke, and Steve gently shrugged her off so he could turn around to face her.

“Thank s for your help, Nat,” he said and tried to make it more sincere by pulling her into an embrace.

“You’re a big sap,” Natasha complained but grudgingly returned the embrace anyway. “You know I only tried to set you up with those women because I thought you needed someone to keep you company. I wouldn’t have wasted my time doing that if you told me about Bucky earlier.”

“You and Clint were good company,” Steve said and disentangled himself from Natasha when she poked him in the ribs. “You know, I’m starting to suspect that setting me up on a date is your way of saying that you don’t want me as the third wheel anymore.”

The eye roll was the only warning he got before Natasha unceremoniously shoved him up the stairs.

“Make sure you get laid first before we start talking about my love life, okay?”

* * *

 

Steve was standing outside of his own apartment with his hand braced against the door as he wondered, absurdly, if he should knock or just let himself in. He knew the dilemma was something his mind created to distract him from his fight or flight response, but he still kept his hand firmly away from the doorknob, lest of startling Bucky by making a sudden entrance. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there but the next moment he blinked, the door was already open, and Bucky was peering bemusedly through the crack.

“You planning on coming in any time soon?”

“Bucky,” Steve said, the word almost drowned out in a sigh because _of course_ Bucky had heard him. His apartment door was situated right across the staircase, and Natasha hadn’t really bothered to keep her voice down either. “I was about to knock,” he explained as an afterthought.

“You were about to knock on the door of your own apartment,” Bucky repeated flatly, his bemused expression turning deadpan as he stepped aside and made an exaggerated sweeping gesture inside. He waited for Steve to cross the threshold before offering his hand and pulling him into a one-armed hug. “It’s nice to finally see you.”

“Nice to see you too,” Steve returned and placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to keep him close when he began to pull away. There were some details that simply couldn’t be picked up by a FaceTime camera, but Steve was surprised that he wasn’t able to catch the hint of a growing stubble during their last call. Bucky almost had a full beard now and it did wonders with highlighting the pinkness of his lips and the greyer shade of his eyes. 

“Sorry I couldn’t pick you up from the airport,” Steve said, trying to disguise his unabashed staring into a form of apology. “Our mission was delayed for a few hours and I had to submit a full report to Fury after I got back.”

“Sounds like you had a rough day,” Bucky remarked, seeming unbothered by the attention. “It’s fine, I get it, but I think I might have been a little rude to your friend.”

“I ran into Natasha downstairs, she doesn’t seem to mind that much,” Steve reassured, giving Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze before striding towards the living room.

“Could you tell her I’m sorry?” Bucky asked as he followed Steve inside. “She might have gotten the worst of my jet lag.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know,” Steve replied, collapsing onto the couch after propping his shield against the armrest. He glanced at the window as he began toeing off his boots and realized it was already dark outside. “Hey, do you want to go get some dinner? A new restaurant opened around the block yesterday; maybe we can go check it out.”

“Sure thing,” Bucky said and flopped onto the spot next to Steve, stretching his legs out like a cat. “You still owe me a date, remember?”

“I do?” Steve asked, nearly choking on the words. A blush had already crept across his face before he registered that Bucky was referring to the conversation they had when they first met. “That was six months ago, don’t tell me you’re still expecting something from that,” he said incredulously, hoping it would be enough to hide his initial eagerness.

“It never hurts to try, Stevie.” Bucky made a _tsk tsk_ noise as he gave him a pointed onceover. “Are you seriously going to wear that to our first date?”

Steve’s brows drew together in a feigned look of indignation. “What? It’s not a onesie anymore.”

“It’s still too patriotic.”

* * *

 

The restaurant turned out to be a steakhouse that specialized in candlelight dinners. It wasn’t exactly the right place to be, especially when Steve was running away from his feelings but it was too late for him to suggest going somewhere else without giving rise to suspicions.

That was how they wound up sitting across each other in a table next to the glass windows that provided them a perfect view of the city outside. The lights around the restaurant were dimmed to give off a romantic ambience, and there was a stage situated at the center of the room, where a jazz singer was crooning in a slow and soothing tune. To top it all off, they were given two glasses of red wine by the owner herself. She explained that the drinks were compliments for being the restaurants’ first few customers, but Steve couldn’t help but notice that she was casting them a knowing look.

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky asked after the waiter had taken their orders, raising a hand to stop Steve when he opened his mouth to deflect. “Don’t say it’s not important, I can tell that it’s bothering you right now.”

Steve sighed and braced himself the way he did whenever he was preparing for an incoming attack. If sending them to a candlelight restaurant was the universe’s way of fucking with him, he might as well lay it all out here. “Did Natasha tell you anything about me?” he began tentatively.

“You keeping secrets from me now, Stevie?”

Bucky’s tone was teasing, but Steve couldn’t stop the involuntary wince at those words.

“Hey, relax,” Bucky quickly added after seeing him tense. “I promise I won’t get mad over what you’re about to say.”

So Steve told him everything, starting from how he got hung up over a stranger he met while fighting aliens and couldn’t stay away. How that stranger eventually became a vital part of his life when he helped him see color in the city that had grown so dreary. How he only realized he wanted more than friendship from the stranger after they were separated for six months. Bucky stared at him wordlessly the whole time, his eyes wide and his lips parted in what Steve desperately hoped was surprise and not disgust.

“Fuck,” was all Bucky said after Steve finally lapsed into silence. His eyes weren’t as wide as before but he was clutching at the tablecloth so hard, his knuckles were already blanching. The sight sent Steve’s thoughts into overdrive and caused him to break off into another tirade.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a selfish thing to say and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. This is probably going to make things awkward but I hope nothing will change—“

Bucky reached across the table and managed to cut Steve off mid-sentence by taking his hand. “Shut up,” he said and coaxed Steve to meet his gaze by interlacing their fingers. “I don’t think you’re selfish at all but if your definition of selfish is different from mine, just know that you’ve already given up so much and you’re allowed to be selfish for once.”

“Buck—“

“I’m not done.” Bucky grip tightened around Steve’s hand. “I like you, and I’ve wanted to ask you out since the day you showed up at my apartment again but I always ask you to hang out instead because I assumed you were straight. I thought I’d never have a chance with you so I suggested you should ask Natasha out but when you sent her to pick me up from the airport, I thought you two were officially together, and I got pissed at her. If anyone’s selfish here, it’s me.”

“Bucky, you’re not.”

“Are you getting my point here?”

“That were both idiots? I think so,” Steve answered, feeling almost light-headed with the bliss that was coursing through his veins. Everything around him was rapidly fading into a dull hum, and he had to focus on Bucky’s eyes to keep himself grounded.

“That’s great,” Bucky breathed and let go of Steve’s hand to slump back against his seat as if he was recovering from having a heavy weight on his shoulders. “I can finally stop lying to the army boys.”

Steve canted his head at him. “You told actually told your unit that we’re dating?”

Bucky tried to brush it off with a casual shrug but even in the poor lighting, it was hard to miss the hint of red coloring his cheeks. “Well what was I supposed to tell them? We were messaging each other every day.”

“I guess we were already dating before we even knew about it,” Steve pointed out with a huff of laughter.

“That doesn’t give us a reason to skip the first date.”

“Are you asking me out, Sergeant?”

“Why yes, Captain. I’m glad you noticed.”

“Dinner again tomorrow?” Steve suggested. “I know a handful of fancy restaurants around the block.”

“That’s cliché, Rogers,” Bucky said, attempting to fix him with a mock look of disapproval, but was eventually betrayed by the smile that tugged at his lips. “I’m not saying no but I promised Rebecca I’d visit her tomorrow and she’s probably gonna keep me there all day.”

“I’m not free after tomorrow either, I have mission coming up,” Steve said, almost lamenting as he felt his temper flare at the thought the nonstop assignments. “It would only last for two days though; maybe we could go out after?”

There was a familiar glint in Bucky’s eyes, one that Steve recognized as a precursor to an outrageous idea. “How bout _during_?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can join you on your next mission and maybe you can buy me dinner after,” Bucky explained. “It won’t be a conventional first date, but it’ll be fun— that is, if you’re okay with it.”

Steve nodded. “I’m okay with it but are you sure about this, Buck? You just got out of the army.”

“Someone has to look after your punk ass.”

“You have a weird way of showing that you care.”

“But you love me anyway.”

“Okay, it’s a date then,” Steve said, a little winded because he could hardly believe his own words. “I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning on Monday. Don’t be late and don’t get shot either.”

“I’m good at that,” Bucky assured him. “And you actually forgot that I’ll be staying with you for the next two weeks, you loon.”

* * *

 

Steve spent the next morning in Fury’s office while Bucky was away visiting his sister. He found himself sitting in the uncomfortably small lounge chair again, this time trying to convince Fury to allow Bucky on the team temporarily. Fury didn’t think it was a good idea and squinted suspiciously at everything Steve said, but his whole demeanor changed once Steve mentioned that Bucky was a sniper.

“Well that’s a useful skill,” Fury noted, still appearing uninterested, but Steve knew he had already sealed the deal. As much as Fury was unwilling to admit it, SHIELD was in dire need of another sniper ever since Clint had been deployed to Asia.

“What did you say this guy’s name was?” Fury asked after searching through the holographic tablet on his desk.

“Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th Infantry Regiment.”

Fury typed the name into the tablet and pulled up a few files that were unmistakably labeled as _classified_ onto the screen. “Let me take a look at these, and I’ll let you know if he’s cleared for the mission.”

“Are you allowed to do that, Sir?” Steve asked skeptically, but Fury only regarded him with a glare that said _I’m allowed to do whatever I want_ before dismissing him.

His apartment was empty when he came back, so Steve decided to make his lunch from scratch with a lack of anything else to do. He puttered around the kitchen for a while, unsure of what to make with the mismatched ingredients in the fridge and eventually decided to search for a recipe online. One recipe turned into four different ones, and Steve was about to get started on dessert when there was a knock on the door.

“Apparently, I’m back now,” Bucky said in lieu of a greeting and stepped aside to reveal a tall brunette with familiar blue-grey eyes behind him. “This is Rebecca by the way and Rebecca, this is Steve.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Steve said and opened the door all the way to let them in. Bucky strode into the living room after pulling Steve into a hug, but Rebecca didn’t follow her brother inside and stood at the threshold, staring.

“Becca…” Bucky chided, successfully snapping her out of her trance.

Rebecca blinked several times like she was checking if Steve was real and extended her hand to him. “Hi I’m Re—“she trailed off all of a sudden and resumed her staring.

“Rebecca,” Steve continued with an amused smile and he shook her hand.

Rebecca’s cheeks flared red. “Sorry,” she said, ducking her head. “I thought Bucky was lying when told me he knew you.”

“And she made me drive her all the way here to prove it,” Bucky supplied from somewhere behind them, his tone accusing.

Rebecca actually stood on her tiptoes to scowl at her brother over Steve’s shoulder.

“You better stay for lunch then,” Steve interrupted and beckoned Rebecca inside before the neighbors could hear their bickering. Rebecca was about to pass on Steve’s offer but then she took one look at the mess of a half finished dessert in the kitchen and decided to make apple pie out of it.

Rebecca stayed a lot longer than she had originally planned, mostly because she never ran out of stories to tell. Steve found out that she worked as a secretary at a clothing company and ran an online based bakery as a hobby while her husband graduated med school a year ago and was currently working as a surgeon at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center. They didn’t have kids yet, and they didn’t plan on having any until their careers were more stable. Steve also discovered that Rebecca had the same quick wit and dry humor as Bucky, though now she only seemed keen on utilizing the two quirks to embarrass her brother as often as possible.

“He’s really into you,” Rebecca told Steve once they had already exchanged enough stories to consider each other as friends, and the dusk had begun to settle over the Washington skyline. This was presumably Rebecca’s last attempt to help Bucky to come in terms with his own feelings before she left, but when she turned to her brother to see his reaction, Bucky only met her with a smile that could best be described as smug.

 “I already told him,” he said. “We’re kinda dating now.”

Rebecca was silent for a moment as her gaze flitted between Steve and Bucky. “Finally,” she said and reached behind her to fling one of the throw pillows at Bucky. “You could have told me that earlier.”

“Sorry, I thought you said you were sick of hearing me talk about Steve.”

“I _said_ I was sick of listening to your pining, and you also failed to mention that the Steve you have been talking about is actually Steve Rogers.”

That was how Steve left them when he stepped out into the balcony to answer a call from SHIELD. He yanked the phone out of his pocket and let it ring for a few seconds, almost exasperated as he wondered what Fury could possibly want from him during this time of day , but then he suddenly remembered the request he had made for his upcoming mission and hastily tapped _accept._

“Tell your friend to get ready for a debriefing at 7am sharp,” Fury said and hung up again before Steve completely registered his words.

* * *

 

The Quinjet ride to Arizona was a little awkward with Bucky and Natasha sitting across from each other in the hull. There wasn’t any hostility between them, but their discomfort was palpable from the way they were trying to stay as far away from each other as possible despite the limited space.

This wasn’t exactly how Steve pictured his first date was going to be. He expected a lot of teasing from Natasha and a lot more sass from Bucky in retaliation, but here they were now, perched at the opposite ends of the Quinjet, entirely too occupied with staring out the window even though there wasn’t anything particularly interesting passing by. Whatever happened between them during the car ride from the airport must have been more serious than they made it seem to be, and Steve was just about to offer them the olive branch himself when the pilot suddenly spoke up from the cockpit.

“We are 20 minutes away from the drop off point.”

“Got it,” Steve noted and turned to Natasha and Bucky. “I guess we better gear up then.”

“Finally,” Natasha said as she stood up and stretched her legs. Then, much to Steve’s surprise, she reached over to tap Bucky on the shoulder. “Come on, I have something to show you.”

She disappeared to the back of the Quinjet without waiting for a reply, and Bucky paused halfway to give Steve a questioning look before following her into the artillery.

When Steve stepped into the artillery a moment later, Natasha was talking about weapons the same way someone typically talks about shoes, and Bucky seemed more than happy to contribute to the conversation. Steve could spot at least six concealed weapons on them already and yet they were still sitting there arguing over which type of gun was more effective. They were all under strict orders not to shoot unless provoked, but Steve highly doubted that they wouldn’t be provoked given the fact that they were dealing with potential terrorist who were experimenting on old Nazi weaponry.

“5 minutes until drop off!” the pilot called out.

Steve slung his shield onto his harness and strode past the artillery to ready himself by the hatch. He had a feeling Bucky and Natasha were going to get along fine from this point, and he briefly wondered if it was something he should be concerned about. Natasha had a lot of dirt on him, but Steve was able to comfort himself with the thought that he could always turn to Rebecca in case he needed some dirt on Bucky.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Bucky’s voice suddenly broke though his train of thought. Steve turned around in time to see Bucky sidle up to him and wrap his arms around his torso. “This is probably going to be the best first date I’ve ever had.”

Natasha’s face was twisted into a grimace as she shrugged on her parachute. “That doesn’t make me the third wheel, does it?”

“No,” came Bucky’s innocent response but he still deliberately plastered himself tighter against Steve’s back.

“Does that mean I get a first kiss to go with that first date?” Steve asked, craning his neck slightly. He was pleased to catch a glimpse of a burgeoning blush on Bucky’s cheeks.

“Let’s see.” Bucky hummed contemplatively but before he could give Steve an answer, the pilot was calling out to them again.

“Approaching drop off point!”

“I’m afraid that’s your cue, Steve.” Bucky placed a finger on his chest and gently nudged him towards the opening hatch. “Maybe later?”

“Is that a promise?”

“It depends if you do a good job. Now go put on a goddamn parachute.”

Steve did as he was told and gave Bucky one last salute before he dove out of the Quinjet.

The plan was simple: infiltrate the base, subdue the armed guards, download any data relevant to Nazi weaponry from their systems, and set the place aflame. Since Steve would be the first one to arrive at the base, his job was to draw out as many armed guards as possible while Bucky watched his six from somewhere up above. Natasha would take this opportunity to slip into the heart of the weaponry to retrieve the related data while Steve and Bucky gather all the prisoners and leave a trail of gasoline in their wake.

It _was_ easy enough assuming everything went as smoothly as planned.

The base ended up having more armed guards than they had anticipated, and Steve had to give Bucky the order to start shooting after he was nearly outnumbered at the entrance. The shots were nonlethal, but they were also precise enough to incapacitate most of the guards. Steve would undoubtedly have no trouble picking off whoever was left standing, but Bucky still chose to join him in the fray, taking out the guards around him with nothing but the butt of his rife and his fists.

“I gotta tell you something,” Bucky said as he landed next to Steve and fell in step with him like they were a part of a deadly waltz. “I know you’re not wearing tights anymore but your ass looks hella distracting from where I was standing.”

“Come on, Buck,” Steve whined as he spun around to clock someone in the head with his shield. “This is my third uniform change in the last six months; don’t tell me you aren’t satisfied with it yet.”

“I’m not asking you to change it,” Bucky insisted in an equally petulant tone. Steve swore he saw him pout as well, which was a comical sight to see considering Bucky had a guard in a headlock and was currently trying to render him unconscious. “I’m not saying that I don’t like the suit, I’m just saying it could compromise me for the rest of the mission.”

“I know how to fix that,” Natasha chimed in through the comms. “Maybe you should stop staring at Steve’s ass through the scope of your rifle.”

“I’m not even using the scope of my rifle anymore.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kicked a particularly feisty guard towards Bucky’s general direction to keep him distracted. “We’re kind of in the middle of a mission,” he reminded.

“And you guys are kind of in the middle of your first date,” Natasha pointed out and after a moment of silence, she added: “I think I just made myself the third wheel.”

“That’s your own fault,” Bucky said wryly as he smashed the end of his rifle into a guy’s face and swept his feet from underneath him with a powerful kick to the shin. “I think that was the last of them,” he told Steve and proceeded to stumble over more than a dozen unconscious bodies in attempt to get to him.

Steve met him halfway and gathered him into his arms. “You have fun?” he asked, placing his hands on Bucky’s waist to hold him within arm’s length. Much to his surprise, Bucky surged forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. He smiled at Steve when he pulled away but didn’t bother to keep the movement of his eyes a little more subtle.

“God, you look so gorgeous right now,” Bucky muttered, almost breathless as he raked his gaze across Steve’s body and licked his lips.

The sight sent a jolt of heat down the pit of his stomach, and Steve had to remind himself that he was allowed to kiss Bucky whenever he wanted just to ease the dull ache in his crotch. He swallowed thickly and somehow managed to find the courage to wrap an arm around Bucky’s waist and press him flush against his chest but before one thing could lead to another, they were rudely interrupted by a guard who had suddenly come back to his senses.

The man lurched to his feet and used the shaky momentum to charge straight at Bucky, but Steve had him in a chokehold before he even got close and slammed him to the ground with enough force to put him out again.

“Cock block,” Steve growled under his breath, making Bucky burst into helpless peals of laughter.

“I never thought I’d ever hear you say that,” Bucky mused once he got a hold of himself and reached out to stroke Steve’s face comfortingly. “We could try again after all the work is done.”

“Fine.” Steve untangled himself from Bucky grudgingly and crouched down to handcuff the guard who had interrupted them earlier. His handling was rougher than usual, but Steve told himself that the man deserved it for experimenting on Nazi technology and for regaining consciousness at the wrong time.

By the time Steve and Bucky finished hauling the prisoners to the back of the Quinjet, Natasha finally sauntered out of the base waving a hard drive in their direction.

“I got everything I need,” she said as she hoisted herself gracefully up the open hatch. “Should I call another ride? I can tell you guys have been busy while I was gone.”

Steve felt himself go beet red at her words, inciting another fit of laughter from Bucky and a knowing smirk from Natasha.

* * *

 

There was something brewing behind Bucky’s eyes, something dark that resembled storm clouds overtaking a clear sky. Steve first noticed it after they wrapped up their mission in Arizona and saw it again while they were having dinner at a Bistro near the Triskelleton. Steve initially dismissed it as a trick of the poor lighting and it wasn’t until Bucky was crowding him against his bedroom door when he learned to recognize it as a look of pure lust.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Bucky whispered hoarsely against his ear and silenced Steve with a tentative kiss before he could echo the same confession.

The kiss was close-mouthed and chaste, but Steve could tell Bucky wanted more than that from the way his body was coiled tight with tension. He moaned when Steve cradled his face in his hands and instinctively parted his lips when those hands wandered down his back to grip his ass. Steve took the opportunity to tip Bucky’s head back and deepen the kiss, and he couldn’t help the small groan of satisfaction when Bucky reciprocated by licking into his mouth.

They stayed like that for a few heartbeats, breathing in each other with a knee shoved between each other’s thighs until the need for oxygen forced them to stop. Bucky’s lips immediately found Steve’s neck after they pulled apart, and Steve had to keep himself from clawing at the door when he felt a tongue lapping at a particularly sensitive spot near his pulse point.

“Bed _now,_ ” Steve managed to gasp and slid his hands under Bucky’s ass to hoist him off the ground. He distinctly felt Bucky wrapping his legs around his waist, and then they were crashing through the door and tumbling into the bed.

“T’was pretty hot,” Bucky slurred as he straddled Steve’s lap, eliciting another groan from Steve when the movement grazed his hardening cock. Bucky swallowed the rest of his whimpers with another kiss and broke away only to get rid of their shirts before continuing where he previously left off.

“I’ve never done this before,” Steve admitted while Bucky was licking an obscene line down his bare chest. A noncommittal hum was all he got from Bucky as he continued to venture across Steve’s chest until his lips brushed against a nipple. He nipped at it with his teeth experimentally, and Steve’s whole body arched towards him in response.

“Jesus Bucky,” he growled and buried a hand in Bucky’s hair encouragingly. He could barely feel anything apart from the haze of pleasure flooding his veins, which is why he wasn’t aware of being urged onto the bed until he found himself staring up at Bucky. The grayness of his eyes was shrouded by his blown-out pupils, his lips were red and swollen with kisses, and his hair was an unkempt mess. He looked utterly beautiful outlined by the pale yellow lamplight, and Steve felt his cock give another throb as it begged to be freed from the layers of fabric.

“I’ll be sure to make this extra special for you,” Bucky said, trailing his fingers down the line of Steve’s muscles to tug at the waistband of his pants. Steve lifted his hips in a silent plea for him to move faster, and Bucky followed through his request, pulling both his pants and his boxer briefs down his legs.

“You fucking _are_ a Greek sculpture,” Bucky choked out and chucked his own pants of so fast, Steve swore he heard the fabric tear at the seams. Then Bucky was taking Steve in his hands and was stroking him in a painfully slow pace that made stars explode in the periphery of his vision.

“Fuck me,” Steve said, his voice barely above a cut off whisper but loud enough for Bucky to hear through their little noises of pleasure. Bucky grinned at him as he moved his hands slowly to the tip of Steve’s cock and back up to the base, slicking the rest his length with his own pre-come. “You sure about that, Stevie?”

Steve nodded and spread his legs a little wider to accommodate Bucky between them. “There’s lube in the nightstand.”

Bucky failed to hide his surprise at that statement and earned himself a halfhearted glare from Steve. “Sorry,” he said as he reached for the top drawer. “It’s not something you typically find in a ninety-five-year-old’s bedroom.”

“Are we seriously going to talk about this now?”

“It’s okay Steve, I don’t mind. They say age is just a number after all.”

Steve was seriously considering the option of kicking him off the bed now. Bucky pouted at him, as if sensing his thoughts. Then the pout curled into a smirk as he flipped Steve face first onto the mattress and slid a finger inside him.

“Too deep?” he asked when Steve let out a gasp and arched off the bed. Steve reached back to tangle a hand in Bucky’s hair, urging him to go on, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work properly and ended up saying: “You’re so gorgeous.”

“You should take a look at yourself,” Bucky cooed, his voice lilted with reverence as he inserted another digit into his ass. “You’re beyond gorgeous right now, Steve.”

“Sap,” Steve grunted into the pillow, and Bucky’s laughter sent a series of vibrations that threatened to push his body into an early orgasm.

Steve was reduced to nothing more than whimpers and pleas when Bucky finally slipped inside him. He closed his eyes when the white light erupted at the edges of his vision and clutched at the sheets as he relished the feeling of finally having the man he had been longing for inside him. The next moment Steve came to, Bucky’s hand was around his cock while the other was nestled between his shoulder blades, pressing him down onto the bed after each of his rhythmic thrusts. The bed was already creaking underneath their combined weight and judging from the sheen of sweat on their skin, he could tell that they were both close. Steve shut his eyes to focus on committing every detail into his memory, and then they were both coming with each other’s names on their lips.

Bucky collapsed onto Steve when it was done and curled against his chest as if there wasn’t a sticky mess between them and on the sheets. Steve pressed a kiss onto the top of his head and smiled when Bucky chased away his own bleariness to kiss him on the mouth.

For the first time, Steve knew what it was like to fall asleep in a warm bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cause of delay for this chapter: the last scene.
> 
> It was an accident. I didn't plan to write it. My hand slipped. You're welcome.
> 
> I didn't even know what I was doing. For the whole time while I was writing the last scene I was just ?????? and then I hit the post button purely upon instinct. I'm not quite satisfied with it because the flow seems kind of choppy, but I decided to leave it alone for now because any attempts of fixing it would only delay the update even more.
> 
> Some additional notes: the 107th infantry regiment has long been disbanded but I decided to ignore that because what other unit can we associate Bucky with if it's not the 107th?
> 
> Your comments give me life guys :D


	6. And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back, so shake it out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song Shake It Out by Florence+The Machine

His feet were cold.

That was the first thing Steve was aware of the next morning. He cracked an eye open and found only the edge of the duvet draped over his knees while the rest of it was wrapped snugly around Bucky.

Steve reached out to prod at the cocoon next to him and was rewarded with a sleepy smile before Bucky curled in on himself tighter and tickled Steve’s chin with his hair.

“You stole the covers,” Steve whined.

“You woke me up,” Bucky countered and lifted his head to glare at him accusingly.

“It’s getting late anyway,” Steve said as he glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “And we need a shower,” he added when he felt the dried come start clinging to his skin.

Bucky wasn’t bothered by it though. He got up on all fours, crawled on top of Steve and collapsed onto him to keep him in place. “It’s too early, maybe later.”

“Buck, it’s seven-thirty.”

“Don’t care,” Bucky muttered into his neck. “It’s still too early for me.”

“Fine,” Steve sighed, deciding to indulge him after realizing Bucky only had a few days left to sleep in before it was time for him to go back to Afghanistan. He wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist and kissed his forehead as he leaned back into the pillows. He doubted he’d be able to drift off again, but he was contented with watching his boyfriend sleep. 

Steve reached for his phone when he began to feel a little stir-crazy and snapped a quick picture before closing his eyes and allowing his thoughts to wander to everything that happened the other night. It started to become surreal the more he dwelled on it, and he almost expected to find himself in an empty bed the next moment he opened his eyes.

It turns out Steve was wrong about two things. He _was_ able to drift off again, and when he woke up an hour later, Bucky was poking his cheek and demanding him to make coffee.

Steve didn’t know it was possible for Bucky to be so endearing, and that was how he ended up standing in the middle of the kitchen in nothing but his boxer briefs as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

“I could get used to this,” Bucky hummed as he trudged out of the bedroom dragging the duvets behind him. He came up behind Steve and wound his arms around his torso just as Steve was pouring the steaming coffee into two mugs.

“Come on,” Steve beckoned as he picked up the mugs and tugged Bucky along as they made their way to the center island. Bucky plastered himself all over his side once they were sitting next to each other on the barstools, making Steve pause halfway through sipping his coffee as he tried to get used to the idea of domesticity.

“Ever thought of joining the Avengers, Buck?” Steve asked out of the blue when the thought of Bucky leaving suddenly became overwhelming. “Fury’s probably wouldn’t complain too much after yesterday’s success.”

Bucky pulled his head away from Steve’s shoulder to regard him curiously before setting his mug down and shaking his head. “Nah, there’s nothing special about me, Stevie.”

“Of course there is,” Steve insisted. “I’ve never seen anyone fight the way you do.”

Bucky pursed his lips contemplatively. “Well, you _do_ need someone to watch your six.”

“You’re just using that excuse to stare at my ass.”

“You have an amazing ass,” Bucky informed him as hopped off the barstool and pinched his backside as he passed by. “Let’s just say it gives me another reason to protect you.”

Steve pivoted in his seat to face him. “So is that a yes?” he asked and winced when his tone wavered with a tinge of desperation.

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t seem to notice, but the smile he gave Steve was reassuring nonetheless. “I think I can give it a go once I’m out of the army.”

“That’s…great,” Steve said and resumed drinking his coffee to hide how flustered he was.

“I’m taking a shower,” Bucky announced and disappeared into the bathroom. He stuck his head around the doorframe after a few seconds and gave Steve an expectant look.

“ _Oh_.” Steve nearly knocked over the barstool as he hurried to follow Bucky into the bathroom.

* * *

 

Steve had never encountered another jogger during his morning run.

He always thought it was due to the location because the route he chose to take couldn’t be lapped more than once by an average person. There were plenty of parks in the vicinity for athletes and military men to train, which is why the area surrounding the White House often resembled a ghost town when it was this early in the morning.

Today, however, there was a lone man jogging a few meters ahead. He didn’t seem to be aware that there was someone behind him, and he was running at such a leisure pace that it almost seemed lazy.

Back then, Steve would have approached him out of loneliness, but now that he had Bucky’s company, he just thought it would be fun to lap the guy once to impress his boyfriend and maybe give the stranger a little motivation to run faster.

“On your left,” Steve told the man as he streaked past him. The man made a disgruntled noise, and Steve turned around to see Bucky patting him sympathetically on the shoulder.

“On your left,” Steve grunted at the man after lapping him again.

“On my left, got it,” the man quipped and actually tried to speed up.

When Steve circled back to the route for the third time, the man was able to sense his approach before he even got close.

“Don’t say it,” he warned.

Steve waited until they were running side by side before saying: “on your left” and taking off again.

Bucky was nowhere in sight after Steve finished his run, but the guy he had been messing with earlier was slumped against the base of a tree, clutching at his side as if breathing was taking a lot of effort out of him.

“Need a medic?” Steve asked, unable to keep the concern from his expression despite his lighthearted tone.

The man squinted up at him and chuckled. “I need a new set of lungs—dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”

“I guess I got a late start,” Steve answered modestly, earning himself a snort from the stranger.

“Really? You should be ashamed of yourself. Go take another lap.” The stranger closed his eyes and opened them again after a brief moment. “Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

Steve was about to retort, but he was cut off by a third voice.

“I see you guys already met,” Bucky said as he came up behind Steve and slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey man,” the stranger said from his perch.

Bucky raised his hand in greeting then gestured at Steve. “This asshole is Steve Rogers by the way.”

“Oh, I’ve figured that out already,” the guy replied wryly.

Bucky’s brows creased in confusion. “Figured what out? That he’s an asshole or that he’s Steve Rogers.”

“I dunno man,” the stranger said between fits of laughter. “I think it might be both.”

Steve pouted at Bucky, but Bucky only gave him a look that told him he deserved it. The stranger watched on with growing amusement and extended a hand to Steve. “I’m Sam Wilson.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam,” Steve said as he took his hand and pulled him onto his feet. “What unit are you it?”

“58th Pararescue, but now I’m working down at the VA’s office,” Sam replied.

“I feel like I’ve encountered your unit before,” Bucky mused. “How long did you serve?”

“Two tours. And you?”

“Oh, I’m just on leave, and I’m currently in the process of giving Steve a crash course to modern life. Got any suggestions?”

Sam directed his attention to Steve. “Marvin Gaye, 1972, Trouble Man Soundtrack. Everything you missed jammed into one album.”

“I’ll put it on the list,” Steve said and scrawled the title into a small notebook. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw Sam’s eyes flare with passion after Bucky told him it was a good choice.

A ringtone suddenly interrupted their conversation, and Sam grudgingly dug out his phone from his pocket. “Sorry to cut this short, but it looks like I’m needed at the VA’s office. It was nice meeting you guys.”

Steve nodded. “You too, Sam.”

“We should go get a drink sometime,” Bucky called after him.

Sam spun around without breaking his stride and motioned his hand in a two-fingered salute. “You know where to find me.”

* * *

 

When Steve opened his eyes again, he was back in that accursed plane with no context on how he got there. Water was trickling through the gaps of the metal, filling the hull like the other half of an hour glass. Noises filtered through the radio—a discordant mess of voices and screams. He vaguely recognized Peggy and Colonel Philips trying to talk to him but the line suddenly faded into static before he got the chance to discern their words.

His right hand was caught against something that felt like marble, but he ignored it and leaned back into the seat of his soon-to-be deathbed, a sense of weariness washing over him. Perhaps he had never left the plane after all. Perhaps the 21st century was just an elaborate fantasy that his mind had conjured to help him cope with the possibility of drowning.

The water level was above his stomach now, and Steve wondered if he should be struggling or not. His limbs were already numb and his veins felt like they were made of lead. He peered out the window to where the watery sunlight was playing lambently against the glass and had the absurd thought that the sun looked beautiful from down here.

It felt so peaceful to be surrounded by the endless expanse of blue and the subdued silence of the ocean. It made Steve want to close his eyes to dream about something other than death, but then his curiosity got the best of him, and he tilted his head slightly to see what he was holding onto.

His heart plummeted at the sight of Bucky hanging limply on the seat beside him, his face pale and his lips tinged blue. Steve tried to quell his panic to check on his pulse, but his fingers were too numb to feel anything other than his own erratic heartbeat thrumming through his body. He screamed Bucky’s name and pulled at his arm, but Bucky’s head only lolled towards him listlessly, still utterly unresponsive.

The corners of his vision were already stained by darkness, but Steve struggled back into wakefulness and altered between pleading and shouting at Bucky until his voice gave out. There was something holding him back—something trying to prevent him from getting to Bucky. Steve instinctively lashed out on whatever it was but only ended up having his wrists pinned back.

_“Wake up, Stevie!”_

The endless blue depths suddenly shifted into a familiar crème-colored ceiling, and Steve gasped as he bolted upright, nearly ramming into whoever had a grip on his shoulders. A voice was calling out to him insistently, but he could barely hear anything apart from the sound of his own ragged breaths and the roaring blood in his ears.

_“Steve, calm down it’s just me.”_

It took Steve a while to register the voice but when he realized it belonged to Bucky, he tore his gaze away from the wall to stare at him in disbelief. The moonlight lent a ghostly shade to Bucky’s skin, but the color of his lips was pink instead of blue, and Steve could feel his steady heartbeat from the close proximity of their bodies.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, his hands hovering hesitantly over his arms as if he was afraid that Steve would crumble under his touch.

“I think so,” Steve answered and almost immediately, he was gathered into a tight embrace. “Did I hit you?’

“No,” Bucky replied and ran a hand up and down his back as an added reassurance. “You _did_ scare the shit out of me though.”

“Sorry for waking you up,” Steve mumbled.

“Wasn’t really asleep anyway,” Bucky said and rearranged their position so that Steve was leaning against him. He took the blanket that was discarded at the edge of the bed and draped it over Steve’s shoulders. “Do you mind if I ask what it was about?”

“Not really,” Steve said, but he had to rest his head on the crook of Bucky’s neck and inhale his scent before he found the courage to recall it. “I dreamt of crashing the plane into the arctic,” he began. “Everything was exactly how I remembered it, but this time, I took you down with me.”

Bucky only blinked at him in response, leaving a spell of pensive silence between them. Then he sighed and pulled Steve closer to his chest. “That sounds like something I would do if I existed during the war. Don’t get upset over that. I’m here now and I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

“Isn’t it a little too early to be reciting your wedding vows?"

“You’re a punk, you know that?” Bucky fumed and proceeded to assault Steve with tickles until there were tears streaming down his cheeks.

The atmosphere grew somber once their laughter died down, and Bucky took the opportunity to cross his arms and fix Steve with a look of earnest. “How often do the nightmares happen?”

Steve shrugged absently as he tried to pinpoint exactly when the nightmares started. “I used to have them every night,” he confessed, but his brows furrowed when he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had a bad dream. “I guess they stopped after I met you.”

“You flatter me, Stevie.”

“I’m serious,” Steve insisted. “They used to keep me up every night to the point where I just didn’t bother to go to bed at all. That was the first few weeks after I came out of the ice, but then I met you and the nightmares sort of _stopped._ ”

“Have you ever considered getting some help?” Bucky asked, his concern palpable in the slight hitch of his voice. “That could be a sign of repressed PTSD.”

Steve sat up to kiss the lines of worry forming on Bucky’s face. “I did get help from a SHIELD-appointed therapist but I stopped seeing her after a week because it wasn’t helping.”

“Have you tried looking for someone else?”

 “Is there anyone else who would like to deal with a depressed war veteran from the 1940s?” Steve pointed out with a self-depreciating smile and shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not _fine,_ Steve,” Bucky said—perhaps with more aggression than he had intended. He seemed taken aback by himself, but his momentary surprise suddenly melted away into stubborn determination. “How ‘bout Sam Wilson? He might not be a veteran from the 1940s, but he’s still a veteran. He’ll understand you better than any other high-end therapist.”

Steve considered the idea for a moment, but the thought of unloading all his problems to another potential stranger still gave him the same doubts. “Maybe I’ll give it a try after I get to know Sam a little better.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Bucky said, pulling the blanket over them both and urging Steve to go back to sleep.

“Be careful when you’re out in the field okay?” Steve said once he had Bucky nestled safely in his arms. “What I saw in that dream really fucked me up.”

Bucky didn’t reply to that, and Steve took his lack of a response as a sign that he had fallen asleep, but then Bucky was wriggling out from the covers and sauntering over to the wardrobe.

“I have something for you,” Bucky said as he crouched next to his suitcase and began searching through its contents. Once he found what he was looking for, he tucked himself back under Steve’s arm and pressed something into his palm.

Steve peaked at it curiously and found a silver dog tag glinting in the darkness.

“The army issued a new set of dog tags because the old ones were rusting,” Bucky explained. “Becca already has one from the old set so I figured I’d give this to you.”

“We have the same blood type,” Steve blurted and immediately buried his face in the pillow to hide an embarrassed flush. “I meant to say thank you.”

Bucky chuckled and closed a hand over Steve’s so that they were cradling the dog tag between their palms.

* * *

 

Steve was attempting to make a poached egg for the fifth time in a row when Bucky walked into the kitchen the following morning.

“You make a good housewife, Steve,” he said and stopped short once he saw how many plates were lined up on the counter. “Uh, did you invite the Avengers over for breakfast?”

“No,” Steve answered amusedly as he scooped another egg onto a plate. “I wanted to get the shape right,” he reasoned and hoped that Bucky was too out of it to detect the blatant lie in his statement. He hadn’t gotten much sleep after the nightmare, and the mundane task of making eggs helped him keep his mind off of it.

It was a good thing Bucky had never been a morning person. He wordlessly plopped down onto the nearest barstool and accepted the cup of coffee that Steve handed to him with a mumbled “thanks”.

“Not up for a run today?” Bucky asked after scarfing down his coffee.

“Nope,” Steve said as he set a plate of toast topped with a perfectly poached egg in front of Bucky and took a seat beside him. “You can go if you want to though, it’s still early.”

“Nah.” Bucky poked at his egg and made a satisfied noise when the yolk flowed over the toast. “I was thinking of asking you out on another date.”

Steve raised a single brow. “Oh? Where to this time?”

“The shooting range.”

Steve blinked at him, nonplussed. “Did I hear that right? You want to go on a date at the shooting range?”

“Yeah unless—” Bucky’s eyes widened with a sudden realization, “oh shit, does gunfire trigger your nightmares?”

Steve shook his head. “The nightmares come and go. I don’t think there’s anything triggering them. And yeah, I would like to go to the shooting range with you. It just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“You should get used to that by now,” Bucky said, the words almost unintelligible because of the eggs he was chewing.

Steve’s face scrunched up at his statement. “I thought I already did, but then you keep getting more creative.” 

They had to drive all the way to Maryland to find a decent shooting range. There was always an area dedicated to target practice at the SHIELD sublevels, but Steve was keen on avoiding the Triskelleton as much as possible while he was on a two-week leave.

Once they arrived at the shooting range, the owner took one look at Steve and immediately offered to close the whole place down for their personal use. Steve politely declined, but because the owner was insistent, they ended up having the whole place to themselves for the rest of the afternoon.

It _was_ their second date after all, and there was nothing more intimate than being alone in a room full of guns.

Bucky was having a good time shooting the targets like he was trying to win Steve a stuffed bear at a carnival. He had made six bulls-eyes in a row for the past fifteen minutes, while Steve only succeeded in making a zigzag pattern on his target.

“Come on Stevie, you can do better than that,” Bucky said, stealing a glance at Steve while he was emptying another round of bullets into his target. “Are you out of practice or am I just _that_ distracting?”

“Well, I’ve never actually had much practice with firing a gun,” Steve admitted and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly when Bucky turned around to gape at him.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” He enunciated and stepped closer to check Steve’s stance. “You’re not even standing in the right position. How the fuck did you survive the war?”

“I had the shield,” Steve responded defensively. “I _still_ have the shield.”

“Yeah and yet you keep throwing it around like it’s a goddamn Frisbee,” Bucky fired back

“I fight fine without a gun, Buck.”

“Oh yeah? What if you lost your shield in the middle of a fight and all you had left was a gun with a single bullet?”

Steve opened his mouth to argue but all the words he wanted to say caught in his throat when Bucky pressed up behind him and gently kicked his feet apart to correct his stance.

“I can’t believe that asshole Fury cleared you for duty when you can’t even aim a gun,” Bucky muttered as he raised Steve’s arm a little higher and angled his wrist slightly to the left. His touches lingered and sent goose bumps across Steve’s skin, and his breaths ghosted over Steve’s neck every time he spoke.

Steve was suddenly grateful that the shooting range was empty.

“Shoot,” Bucky said into his ear.

Steve pulled the trigger and sent a bullet straight through the bulls-eye.

“That’s better.” Bucky smiled at him and plucked the gun from Steve’s hand before crowding him against the booth.

* * *

 

They woke up to the sound of rain pattering against the windowpane the next day, but Bucky still dragged Steve out for a morning run because he was determined to make the most out of the remaining days of his leave.

Steve warned him about the possibility of catching a cold, but Bucky assured that he wasn’t susceptible to sickness, all while stomping on a puddle and flinging muddy rainwater at Steve’s pants like a child.

Predictably, Bucky’s temperature went up sometime before noon, and he was confined to the bed for the rest of the day while Steve fussed over him and plied him with bowls of chicken noodle soup.

Bucky seemed happy with all the attention Steve was giving him, though he constantly complained about being cold no matter how many blankets were piled on top of him. Steve suspected this was Bucky’s way of luring him into bed, but he gave into his boyfriend’s subtle coaxing anyway and even built a blanket fort with the spare bed sheets and duvets that he had dug out from the closet.

“You sure know how to make a guy feel good,” Bucky said, rolling over and stretching out against Steve’s chest. His face was flushed but his eyes were still bright beneath the fevered glaze, and Steve thought it was unfair for someone to look so attractive while burning up with a fever.

“I don’t actually know what I’m doing,” Steve said as he splayed a hand over Bucky’s back and caressed down his spine. “I used to get sick a lot, so it’s usually the other way around.”

“Well, you’re a natural,” Bucky told him and propped himself up to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek. “I just wish I was there to take care of tiny Steve when he was sick.”

Steve smiled wistfully. “Having you back then would’ve made my life a whole lot easier.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “I would’ve had one helluva good time beating the shit out of those bullies.”

Steve smiled again and nuzzled the top of Bucky’s head. “I appreciate that, Buck.”

“Okay, you can stop giving me the sappy eyes now,” Bucky said as he untangled himself from Steve’s arms and flopped on top of him. “I’m sick, and you gotta take care of me.”

Steve nudged him off playfully. “I’m not making you anymore soup if you don’t stop bitching about it.”

* * *

 

They finally met up with Sam at a gastro pub near the VA’s office on the last day of Bucky’s leave. They still had a few hours to kill, but they spent the time talking instead of drinking because Steve couldn’t get drunk anyway and both Sam and Bucky had work the next day.

They mostly talked about their families and their units for the first hour but after exchanging a round of stories, Steve started to feel a sick sense of nostalgia roiling in the pit of his stomach.

Both Sam and Bucky were able to take notice of his discomfort, and they abruptly changed the subject from the past to the future. That somehow led to them arguing over each other’s suggestions to Steve and at some point, Steve was forced to turn the back of his notebook into a score sheet just to appease them. Right now, Bucky already had one point because Steve preferred The Lord of the Rings over Game of Thrones.

“Are you guys together?” Sam asked once he and Bucky ran out of things to argue about.

Bucky looked a bit startled at his inquiry, and Steve realized it was due to the fact that they haven’t discussed the nature of their relationship yet. He wasn’t big on PDA when he was out with Bucky, but he didn’t exactly want to hide their relationship either because it would feel too much like he was ashamed. He bumped his shoulder against Bucky’s fondly and tilted his head at Sam. “Are we _that_ obvious?”

“Nah, it took me a while to put together,” Sam replied, his tone carefully nonchalant. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind, and I won’t tell a single soul either, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“Thank god,” Bucky said, breathing a sigh of relief. Steve almost thought he meant it until he saw the mischievous glint in Bucky’s eyes. “Now I don’t have to worry about where I’m supposed to dump your body.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Sam said, with a pointed glare at Bucky. “How’d you guys meet?”

“I found his tinder profile,” Bucky answered without so much as a twitch.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Oh really? What did it say?”

“God no,” Steve cut in before Bucky could come up with something embarrassing. “He flirted with me while we were fighting aliens and that’s how it all started.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky protested. “You were the one who asked me out on a date while we were in the middle of a word-ending crisis.”

“Man, you should really learn how to introduce yourself like a normal person,” Sam said, exasperated.

“This is Steve Rogers you’re talking to,” Bucky retorted. “He’s always been this extra. Have you seen those clips of him fighting Nazis?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at him. “I thought you said you’ve never seen those!”

“I only said that because I was trying to get into your pants and I didn’t want to come off too strong.”

“Okay, brain bleach.” Sam held up a hand to stop them. “I didn’t need to hear that.”

Steve turned towards Sam slowly, adapting to an expression of mild surprise to make it seem like he had forgotten about his presence. “How ‘bout you Sam?” he began conversationally. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Yeah, a therapist,” Sam answered flatly. “Now go back to being all lovey-dovey and stay out of my love life.”

The three of them erupted into a fit of laughter— and the laughter continued until most of the tables around the gastro pub were empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Black Panther trailer came out as I was writing this and I couldn't continue because I was freaking out nonstop. I actually tried to fit T'Challa in the outline for the future chapters, but it wasn't really working so I sulked about it for a few days before I got back to writing. Hey, at least I've managed to get this chapter up within a week.
> 
> Nothing important really happened in this chapter, which is why it was so relaxing to write. It's only purpose was to BEHOLD SAM WILSON, and everything else just came naturally. That was the only thing I didn't like about catws; the fact that Sam only talked to Steve twice and then all of a sudden he's ready to die for him. They should have had more screen time together outside of the plot, and that's what I was trying to fix here. Other than that, catws is a cinematic masterpiece, pass it on. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. You're kudos and comments give me life :D
> 
> Feel free to drop by and say hi on [Tumblr](http://silvials.tumblr.com/).


	7. How come even together, there can be loneliness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from the song One Foot by Walk the Moon

Steve got a FaceTime call from Bucky on the early morning of July 4th, and because it was so early in the morning, there was quite an amount of uncoordinated flailing involved as Steve tried to figure out what was ringing between his SHIELD burner phone, his personal phone, and his alarm clock.

After a few moments of fumbling in the dark, Steve found his smart phone vibrating angrily with a FaceTime call. Steve reached over the nightstand to flick the lamp on and tapped _accept_ without bothering to fix his appearance.

Bucky looked even worse on the other side of the screen. If Steve’s hair was unkempt, Bucky’s could be mistaken for bird’s nest. There were residues of dirt on his cheeks, and his eyes were shrouded with the dark rings underneath them. All those details, however, could easily go unnoticed because of the smile of his face and the sorry looking cupcake he was holding in front of the camera. “Happy birthday, Steve,” he greeted cheerily.

Steve felt a lot less enthusiastic about his own birthday, but he still gave Bucky the most grateful smile he could muster while waiting for his brain to come back online. “Thanks, Buck,” he said and blinked owlishly at his phone to bring everything into focus. He saw the time on the top border of the FaceTime window and realized it must be half past one in the morning over in Afghanistan. “Hey, it’s late there. What are you still doing up?”

“I’m just making sure you aren’t alone on your special day,” Bucky replied and narrowed his eyes at him inquisitively. “You’re not, right?”

“For now I am,” Steve answered, hitching himself higher against his pillow to show Bucky he hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. “I’m heading out with Sam and Nat for dinner later.”

“That’s good,” Bucky said, and then the mirth on his expression promptly disappeared into a slight frown. “Sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” Steve said and barely managed to stop himself from reaching out to the screen to brush a stray lock of hair away from Bucky’s face. “Seeing you right now is enough for me.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth pulled up into a smirk this time. “Who’s the sap now?”

Steve sighed and made a show of angling his head towards the ceiling as if he was seeking divine intervention. “Shut up and go get some sleep, Buck, you look like shit.”

“Ouch.” Bucky clutched at his chest with a grimace. “Is that how you talk to your boyfriend?”

“Only if my boyfriend is a jerk,” Steve countered.

Bucky raised a single brow and leaned closer into the screen like he was about to disclose a secret. “Pot kettle, Stevie.”

“I can’t be worse than you.”

“Whatever you say,” Bucky replied indulgently. “Just promise me you’ll at least try to have some fun, okay?”

The concern in Bucky’s gaze filled Steve’s chest with enough warmth to last him several winters, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to be a little shit anymore. “How do you expect me to have fun if I don’t get any birthday sex?” Steve asked, his voice almost a whine.

Bucky choked on his breath and shot Steve a glare once he recovered. “You’re a little shit,” he informed him. “And you’ve been spending too much time around Natasha.”

Steve pouted. “You were the one who told me that I needed more friends.”

Later that day, once Steve came home after having dinner with Sam and Natasha, he found a box sitting at his doorstep. Rebecca’s online bakery logo was etched on the lid, and there was a small greeting card tucked under the ribbon that wound around the box.

Steve carried it all the way to the kitchen counter before gingerly undoing the ribbon and taking a peek inside. There was a cake at the center of the box, adorned with red white and blue icing. It was surrounded by four plastic cases packed with a shit ton on candles, and Steve knew if he counted them, there would be exactly ninety-six. According to the greeting card, the cake was from both Rebecca and Bucky, but Rebecca had crossed out her own name and emphasized Bucky’s with bold print.

Steve laughed and sent Rebecca a _thank you_ text anyway. Then he took a picture of the cake and sent it to Bucky. “ _Did you bake this?”_ he began in his message. _“It’s so fucking ugly.”_

Bucky’s reply came a few minutes after. _“No birthday sex for you.”_

* * *

 

The next time Bucky called him through FaceTime, Steve was watching the snow fall from the floor-to-ceiling windows of the waiting lounge outside Fury’s office.

“Hey,” Steve said and flashed a smile as he adjusted the angle of his laptop screen.

Bucky echoed the same greeting, but his smile was more strained at the edges. Steve could immediately tell that something was wrong even though Bucky’s eyes were deceptively bright under the glow of the Christmas lights that hung from his tent. “Hey Stevie, I might have some bad news to tell you.”

Steve felt his stomach start to twist with anxiety, and he had to grip the side of his seat tightly to keep himself from fidgeting. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“It’s not too serious,” Bucky assured, although his eyes were still downcast and unreadable. “I won’t be able to make it make for Christmas.”

Steve almost didn’t catch it from the way Bucky blurted out the words but when he did, he had to school his expression to keep himself from reacting. “What happened?”

“My unit only allows a maximum of six people to take a leave per month,” Bucky began and wrung his hands together nervously. “My friend wasn’t able to request for leave in time and his five-year-old daughter is expecting him to be home for Christmas Eve. I already went on leave this year, so I figured I’d give him the chance instead. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“Don’t feel guilty for something like that,” Steve said. All the initial tension had drained from his shoulders, leaving him lightheaded with a mix of relief and admiration. “You have a big heart, and I’m glad you made that decision.”

“But we already made plans,” Bucky protested, as if he was fishing for reasons to guilt-trip himself. “I feel like shit.”

“I can make other plans.”

“Does _other plans_ include watching Christmas movies all by yourself?”

Steve shook his head at that but decided not to quip about it because it sounded like something he would do. “I have a Christmas party at the Stark Tower tomorrow. I’ll figure out what to do after that.”

“Make sure it isn’t related to your job,” Bucky said and squinted at the screen as if he was only taking notice of his surroundings for the first time. “Wait, are you still at SHIELD?”

“Yeah I just came back from a mission.”

“Jesus Steve, it’s December 23.”

“It’s my last mission until after New Year’s,” Steve went on. “I’m just waiting for Natasha to finish her report.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Bucky said, finally appeased. “I know you love your job, but I want you to stay away from anything SHIELD-related while you’re off duty.” He fixed Steve with a stern glare as he waited for his answer, and in that moment, Steve felt that Bucky had more control over him than Fury ever did.

“Okay, Buck.”

“And loosen up a bit.”

“I will. Merry Christmas, I love you.” The words came out on their own accord, and Steve froze up like a deer caught in the headlights after registering what he said.

“I love you too,” Bucky returned warmly, banishing the doubts that began to circulate Steve’s thoughts. “And Merry Christmas.”

* * *

Steve did nothing but wander around his apartment like a lovesick idiot after he got back from the Triskelleton, alternating between trying to cook, trying to read, and trying to get his mind off Bucky in general. In the end, he gave up on the latter and decided to settle next to the window with his sketchbook open on his lap. He started out by sketching the snow-pelted streets of the city below him as a background, then added an outline of a lone figure standing next to a lamppost. As he continued to fill in the sketch, the picture gradually materialized into the many _what if_ scenarios in his head. The lone figure that was meant to be a stranger eventually turned into yet another portrait of Bucky, and in this version of reality, Bucky was wearing a dark blue trench coat with a black scarf around his neck. There was a camera in his hands, and he was adjusting the lenses as if he was getting ready to steal a picture of whatever was in front of him. His eyes were grey like the winter sky above him, and his smile seemed so real, Steve swore he could almost hear his laughter.

Steve had to close the sketchbook to remind himself that Bucky wasn’t going to be back for the winter. It was harder to stamp down the disappointment this time, but the doorbell rang before he could start sulking again.

Steve hurried over to answer it and was pleasantly surprised to find Rebecca standing in the threshold. “Hi,” he said after blinking out of a momentary stupor.

“Hey,” Rebecca responded with a shy wave. “Um…did Bucky tell you?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, this morning.”

“For the record, he didn’t send me. I was on my way downtown to shop for presents and I thought I’d stop by.”

“Oh.” Steve held the door open wider. “Do you want to come in?”

Rebecca shook her head apologetically. “Sorry, I can’t stay. I’m really behind on Christmas shopping but—” she picked up a box that she hid behind the doorframe and held it out to Steve. “Bucky was supposed to give this to you on Christmas Eve. He’ll insist it’s from both of us, but this gift was his idea. I just helped him get it.”

Steve accepted the box and gave it a little shake. “Is this another cake?”

“Oh my god, _that_ cake,” Rebecca groaned. “Don’t worry; this gift isn’t as ugly as your birthday gift.”

“Thank you?” Steve said, purposely inflecting the words and making Rebecca snort a laugh. “I have something for Bucky too,” he added, although it was more of a realization than a statement.

“I can mail it to him,” Rebecca suggested. “I’ve got a few things to send to him anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise it’s not a big deal,” she said firmly. “I’m dropping by the post office later anyway.”

Steve ducked back into his apartment and retrieved a pristinely wrapped package from the Christmas tree nearby. There was a vintage-style instax camera inside, the model that Bucky had been looking for ever since they started going site-seeing around New York. “You sure it’s no trouble for you?” he asked again as he handed the present to Rebecca.

“Not at all,” Rebecca smiled and reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your Christmas, okay?”

* * *

 

There was an honest to god private jet waiting for him at the airport.

Steve sighed but picked up his bag anyway and followed the chauffeur that Tony had hired to the black SUV parked at the entrance of his apartment building. He specifically told Tony that he was capable of flying to New York on his own, but it was hard to argue with the eager chauffeur who insisted on taking his bags and even opened the door for Steve as he ushered him into the backseat.

The jet itself had a full staff, which Steve thought was unnecessary because it was only a two hour flight. There was only one pilot flying the plane, although he was accompanied by a flight attendant, a five-star chef and a waiter. They mostly left Steve alone after taking off, but occasionally, one or two of them would approach him to check on how he was doing. Then they would either attempt to make small talk or ask to take a picture with him. Steve was quickly getting tired of shaking people’s hands with a fake smile plastered on his face, but he suspected there was going to be a lot more of that at Tony’s Christmas party.

When Steve finally arrived at the Stark Tower (apparently called the Avengers Tower now judging from the big A emblazon on the exterior), he was relieved to discover that the Christmas party was a small gathering instead of a full-blown gala.

“Look who decided to show up,” he heard Tony say once the elevator doors opened into the penthouse, and then there came the comical sight of Tony Stark attempting to wrap an arm around Steve’s shoulders to guide him along despite being the shorter one.

Steve was grateful for the show of affection because otherwise he would’ve felt unwelcome. He was aware that he and Tony weren’t close. They did nothing but argue back when they were working together, and the only time they had a personal conversation was after the New York incident, and a few days before the Christmas party.

“Were you guys waiting for me?” Steve asked as an afterthought.

“No,” Tony replied and quickly retracted his statement. “I mean, yeah we were waiting for you, but technically, there’s still Romanov, Barton, and Thor. I don’t think Thor’s gonna show up any time soon, but have you seen either one of our resident assassins recently?”

“Natasha left this morning to pick up Clint from Thailand,” Steve said, then drew his brows together skeptically. “Or at least that’s what she told me.”

“Ugh, spies,” Tony muttered and rolled his eyes. “Well, at least you stay in the same place everyday—which is unexpected because you work for SHIELD, and the people who work for SHIELD are fucking nomads.”

“Natasha _did_ say I’m a terrible spy.”

“It’s okay, buddy.” Tony rubbed his back consolingly. “You didn’t get shot yet, and that itself is a pretty good achievement because do you know how many times Barton got shot during his first month on job?”

“Clint’s a little bit of a human disaster,” Steve pointed out.

“He could easily be the god of human disasters,” Tony agreed. “Oh hey, where‘s that plus one you were talking about?”

“He couldn’t make it,” Steve answered and tried to keep his shoulders from slumping at the thought of Bucky’s absence. He was slowly becoming aware that a lot of his plans for Christmas revolved around Bucky, and it was going to be hard to make last minute changes in a span of a single day. Bucky was right. Maybe he would just marathon a bunch of holiday movies on Netflix by himself.

“That’s a bummer,” Tony said, as if reading his thoughts. Strangely, he sounded as disappointed as Steve felt. “Did he say why? Family dinner? Girlfriend? Kids maybe?”

“Army.”

“Well, that sucks even more.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s part of the job.”

They were nearing the end of the hallway now, although there wasn’t any music or idle chatter drifting above the silence. Tony stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that the party wasn’t going to start anytime soon and swiveled back to the direction of the elevator. “It looks like Bruce’s still holed up in his lab, and Pepper probably has a few work-related things to wrap up. Do you wanna take a look around your floor while we’re waiting?”

“Um…my floor?” Steve repeated disbelievingly. He and Tony had briefly discussed his living arrangements in the Tower over the phone, but didn’t expect that Tony would give him an _entire_ floor instead of a guest room.

“Yeah, your floor,” Tony confirmed. “This Tower might seem very busy, but there are actually a _ton_ of empty floors.”

The space that Tony took him to was roughly the same size as his apartment in Washington, although it appeared to be larger because of the high ceilings and the open-concept floor plan. It was an epitome of modern architecture, equipped with a digital control panel, an artificial fireplace, and uniquely structured bookshelves. Steve instantly fell in love with kitchen, though he wasn’t so keen everything else. The style lacked the minimalistic simplicity that Steve wanted, and if he was serious about moving into the Tower, he might switch out all the furniture with the ones he had in his current apartment.

“You know, I was supposed to go with a red, white and blue color scheme,” Tony said from his place by the doorway. “The fabric of the couch was supposed to be the American flag, but Pepper threw it out because she thought it was hideous. Then she scrapped all my initial designs for this floor and replaced them with her own.”

Steve cringed when he pictured Tony’s idea in his head. “I’m glad she did.”

“Come on, wasn’t that bad,” Tony said indignantly. “There might have been one too many America flags involved, but that was the point of a modern rustic concept with a little touch of patriotism.”

“What’s with the grand piano?” Steve asked and titled his head towards the centerpiece of the room.

Tony stared at the grand piano for a moment, as if he had forgotten it was there. “Aesthetic?” he said, but it was obvious that he was as lost as Steve was. “Literally no one in this Tower can play a musical instrument so I have no idea where this came from—wait, I think I might have ordered that from Ikea while I was drunk. Do you want it removed? I can have it removed.”

“It’s fine, keep it here,” Steve said and gently ran his hand across the keys, admiring the way they rippled under his fingertips. Bucky had mentioned that he wanted to learn how to play the piano a couple of times, and having one in his flat would give Steve another reason to take him to the Tower.

Tony cleared his throat before Steve got too caught up in his own thoughts. “So what do you say, Cap? You plan on moving in anytime soon?”

Steve bit his bottom lip as he took a look around him again. Everything was too elegant, too high-end—a completely different universe from the Great Depression Era he had lived in all his life. Sometimes he still had trouble adjusting to his own apartment back in D.C., and he didn’t know how well he would cope if he moved into the Tower permanently.

“Can you give me a few more months to decide?”

“Sure thing, but this floor belongs to you either way, so you can show up anytime you want,” Tony said with the air of someone who had this conversation many times before. Then he pushed himself off the doorframe and made his way over to the elevator. “Well, I’m gonna go drag Bruce out of his lab. Feel free to join us at the penthouse whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve called after him before the elevator doors slid shut.

Tony waved at him halfheartedly like it wasn’t a big deal. It probably wasn’t given the fact that Stark Industries was a multi-billion dollar company and the Avengers Tower was thirty floors high, but Steve appreciated Tony’s willingness to do all this for someone he didn’t even get along with.

Once he was left alone in the flat, Steve strolled back into the living room and sat on one of the half-moon couches facing the window. He pulled out the drawing tablet that was Bucky’s Christmas gift to him from his bag and began to make a few changes to the room’s interior design.

* * *

 

Surprisingly, there was an excessive amount of drinking and a lot of stripping involved in the Christmas party later that night, and Steve had partially contributed to the chaos that it had resulted to without actually realizing it.

It started out as a relatively toned-down party, but everything went to shit when Pepper kicked Tony out of the kitchen for nearly setting the oven on fire twice. Steve, who had been listening to Coulson quote his Smithsonian biography for the past thirty minutes, gladly volunteered to help her make the rest of the Christmas dinner.

There wasn’t much to help with, since all the food was already cooling on the countertops when he arrived, but Pepper handed him a bowl of rock-hard fruitcake batter and asked if there was a way to fix it so they wouldn’t have to throw it out. Using water would only make it bland, so that was out of the question.  Sugar syrup wasn’t a good substitute either because it would only make the fruitcake even sweeter than it already was. Steve rifled through the kitchen in search for a solution and decided to use a bottle of red wine that he found in one of the cupboards.

Steve had long forgotten how much wine it took for an average human to get drunk, so he unthinkingly poured two bottles into the bowl until the batter finally softened.

Everyone was all but a little hammered by the time Clint and Natasha arrived. Clint brought a fishing pole with a mistletoe attached to the hook and loudly announced that they were going to play a new game. The rules were simple enough. Anyone who got caught under the mistletoe was required to strip off an article of clothing, the people in the room got to decide which article of clothing that would be, and no one was allowed to wear what they had previously stripped off for the rest of the party.

The wine had succeeded in loosening Steve up a bit, which is why he didn’t complain much when he was ordered to lose his tie, his waistcoat and eventually his shirt.

Pepper called the game off before things got too out of hand, but they still weren’t allowed to put on what they took off until the party formally ended. None of them seem to care about being in various states of undress, so they gathered around in the living room and began exchanging gifts.

Steve mostly got books and boxed set DVDs, but a few remarkable ones included a hideously knitted sweater from Clint, bed sheets that resembled the American flag from Tony, and a bottle of transparent liquid that Natasha insisted was a new type of body lotion. Knowing her, it was most likely K-Y Jelly, and the fact that she wanted to give Bucky a bottle as well pretty much confirmed his suspicion.

Steve was the only person who was still sober by the end of the party, but it wasn’t as boring as it sounded because he returned to Washington with enough embarrassing videos to make a feature film.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos give me life guys :D Feel free to drop by and say hi on [Tumblr](http://silvials.tumblr.com/).


	8. When I heard that sound, when the walls came down, I was thinking about you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song Skin by Rag n' Bone Man

“You doing anything fun Saturday night?” Natasha asked as she strode out of the artillery and stood next to Steve near the drop hatch. She spoke as if was just another day at the office, and her inquiry managed to draw a few perplexed glances from the members of the STRIKE team because it wasn’t exactly a conventional topic to bring up while they were preparing to ambush a ship.

Steve had long grown accustomed to Natasha’s unpredictable personality to even be surprised, though he couldn’t help but wonder what her question would entail this time. “Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead and Bucky’s away, so...” he paused and pretended to go through a mental checklist before shaking his head. “No, not really.”

“That’s great,” Natasha said, but her expression didn’t match the enthusiasm in her words because of the way she was watching Steve like a hawk. “You know Kirsten from statistics? She’s’ throwing a bar party this weekend and she wants to invite you.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at her in question. He heard the name Kristen before, and he vaguely recalled Natasha mentioning it to him back when she was trying to set him up with someone. “That might be a subtle rain check for a date,” he pointed out.

“Relax, I told her that you’re taken,” Natasha assured. “She probably just wants to hang out.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Steve said. He might not have any plans for the weekend, but he wasn’t so keen on spending it in a bar full of strangers.

“Come on, Rogers, you need to get out more,” Natasha insisted in a tone that she normally used to coax someone to spill all their secrets. “It’ll be fun and it would give you a chance to meet new people.”

“I already know a lot of new people,” Steve said defensively, even though he knew it wasn’t true.

Natasha rolled her eyes at his blatant lie and crossed her arms. “That guy you met while jogging does not count as _a lot.”_

“Just tell Kristen I’ll tag along next time,” Steve said and punched the button that opened the drop hatch. He was probably living up to all the old man jokes at the moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything other than the mission that they had at hand. The outline of the Lemurian Star was starting to materialize from the thick veil of fog, and Steve braced himself on the edge of the hatch as he waited for the Quinjet to align with the ship.

“Why?” Natasha asked as she followed him to the edge. “Too shy or too scared?”

“Too busy!” Steve shouted over the howling wind and flung himself over the ledge. He didn’t even bother to put on a parachute anymore, partly because it could easily become a target for anyone who might be watching from the deck, and partly because he had recently discovered his love for freefalling. It was a perfect way for him to clear his head, and Steve had almost forgotten about the conversation he had on the Quinjet until Natasha’s voice broke through the static of the comms.

“James is not going to like the fact that you jumped out of a plane without a parachute.”

 “He doesn’t have to know,” Steve said warningly, already knowing where the conversation was leading to.

“Oh, but I want him to know,” Natasha retorted, her tone casual in a way that suggested it was just an idle threat, but Steve could practically _hear_ the smirk in her words.

“Do you even have his number?”

“Yes, he gave it to me so I can call him—and I quote—‘if Steve does something stupid in the middle of a mission.’ I can let this one slide though if you delete that video you took of me during Stark’s Christmas party.”

“Uh, Nat, can we talk about this later?” Steve asked and adjusted himself into a better position just as the Lemurian Star’s deck rushed up to meet him. “I’m kind of in the middle of hijacking a ship.”

“Just remember that I’m not done with you yet,” Natasha said, her voice bordering a growl, then the line went back to being relatively silent.

Steve landed on the deck with a dull thud and immediately began plowing through the guards who were roaming the parameters of the ship. Their fighting styles were a bit sloppy for people who hijack ships for a living, and it was embarrassingly easy for Steve to get through their defenses. By the time the STRIKE team arrived on the deck, almost half of the crew members were already thrown overboard.

Rumlow took care of the last guard who had a gun trained on his head, and Steve nodded to him in acknowledgement. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, you seemed pretty helpless without me,” Rumlow snorted and proceeded to lead his team down into the bowels of the ship, leaving Steve and Natasha alone on the deck.

“Hey, have you talked to that nurse who lives across the hall yet?” Natasha asked as they made their way towards the bridge in search for Batroc. “She seems kinda nice.

“Secure the engine room, and then help me get a social life,” Steve said, a little surprised that he sounded commanding despite the exasperation he felt inside.

“I’m multi-tasking!” Natasha told him before disappearing over the railings of the nearest bulwark.

The STRIKE team got the hostages out in just under ten minutes, and Steve actually thought the mission was going to run smoothly until Rumlow informed him that had Natasha missed the rendezvous point. His momentary state of distraught had nearly allowed Batroc to tackle him off the ship, but he managed to raise his shield in time to block most of the impact. Steve used the momentum of the blow to swing his shield up in attempt to knock him out, but Batroc was a lot harder to subdue than the rest of the crew. He was exceptionally skilled at hand-to-hand combat and the combination of punches and kicks he threw forced Steve into a defensive stance.

“ _Je pensais que tu étais plus qu'un simple bouclier_ ,” Batroc accosted when he almost got knocked down for the second time.

Steve had learned enough French during the war to recognize Batroc’s demand for fair play, so he slung his shield back onto the harness and tossed his cowl aside to level the playing field. “ _Voyons voir_ ,” he replied. The brief pause in their fight had given Steve the chance to identify all of Batroc’s weak spots, so when Batroc charged at him again, Steve was easily able to overpower him.

Batroc picked himself off the floor over and over again even after he got kicked on the head, and as much as Steve admired his determination, he was also starting to grow impatient. He tackled Batroc just as he regained his footing and slammed him hard against the nearest door. They both crashed into the control room in an unceremonious heap, and when Steve socked Batroc on the jaw this time, he actually stayed down.

“Oh, this is awkward,” Steve heard Natasha say. He initially thought that she was speaking through the comms until he lifted his gaze and found Natasha hunched over one of the computers.

“What are you doing?” Steve demanded.

“Backing up the hard drive, it’s a good habit to get into,” Natasha told him, as if it was a given fact, and Steve felt his temper flare at her nonchalant response.

“Rumlow needed your help, what the hell are you doing here?” he reiterated, although he didn’t need much explanation once he strode over to the control panel and caught a glimpse of what was on the screen. “You’re saving SHIELD intel.”

“Or whatever I can get my hands on.”

“Your mission was to rescue hostages.”

“No, that’s _your_ mission,” Natasha corrected and unplugged the hard drive from the port. “And you’ve done beautifully by the way.” She attempted to brush past him after that, but Steve grabbed her arm before she could head out the door.

“You just jeopardized this whole operation.”

“Come on, I think that’s over-stated.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything else, the room was suddenly engulfed by a world of flames. Instinctively, Steve wrapped an arm around Natasha, raised his shield over their heads, and flung them both away from the range of the explosion.

“Okay,” Natasha said, a little breathless as she slumped against the wall next to Steve. “That was on me.”

“Damn right,” Steve ground out and hauled himself onto his feet despite the protest of his muscles.

* * *

 

“Rough day?” Bucky asked as soon as he accepted Steve’s FaceTime call.

“That obvious, huh?” Steve said resignedly, wondering what had given him away. He had made sure to keep any traces of his prior frustrations hidden behind a carefully neutral mask before picking up his phone, but then again, Bucky _did_ have the uncanny ability to see through all his facades despite only knowing him for less than two years.

“You’re doing the ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ face, it’s kinda hard to miss,” Bucky said, and then his eyebrows drew together in earnest. “Was it the mission? Did something go wrong?”

“No, the mission went well actually. No one got hurt, and all the hostages got back safely, but it’s just…” Steve trailed off to heave a heavy sigh and rake a hand through his hair. “I’m really pissed at Natasha and Fury right now.”

“Do you mind telling me what happened?” Bucky prodded and gave Steve a hesitant smile when he met his gaze again.

Steve pursed his lips as he tried to pinpoint the source of his own anger. After the mission, he had stopped by the Triskeleton to confront Fury about his inability to tell the truth, but instead of offering an apology or a solution to their problem, Fury had taken him to the sublevels and briefed him about Project Insight. Seeing the hellicarriers had worked Steve up a bit, but somehow he was still more upset over Natasha’s ambiguity rather than Fury’s basement filled with weapons of mass destruction.

“It’s been a long day,” Steve said simply, not wanting to unload all his troubles on Bucky when they haven’t gotten the chance to FaceTime each other in over two weeks, but Bucky wasn’t allowing him to drop the subject so easily. He stared at Steve in a silent urge for him to continue, leaving Steve with no other choice but to tell him everything that happened on the Lemurian Star.

“To be fair, they _are_ spies,” Bucky began once he processed the information. “It’s in their nature to be untrustworthy, that’s what makes you such a terrible one.”

Steve smiled at Bucky’s attempt to diffuse the tension, though his quip had done little to assuage the disquiet in his mind. “I know that, Buck,” he said, his voice almost a sigh. “I never fully trusted Fury because he keeps to himself most of the time, but Natasha’s the one who reached out to me first.  I thought she would be different once I get to know her better outside of work, but I guess I thought wrong.”

“Maybe she’s just having a hard time trusting people.”

“It’s been two years since I met her.”

“Then give her another two years,” Bucky said, his tone laced with a hint of urgency. “If she still doesn’t trust you after that, then maybe it’s time for you to set up a few boundaries.”

Steve worried at his lower lip as he thought about possibility of drifting apart from the only person he considered as a close friend at SHIELD.

“Stevie,” Bucky called chidingly when he saw Steve’s brows crease. “You’re thinking too much about it”

“I’m not,” Steve said mulishly.

“You are. You’re still sulking in your apartment,” Bucky shot back and jutted his chin towards Steve as if he was daring him to argue. “Do something. Tour the city on your bike. Go to an art gallery. Take a train to the other end of the city and maybe go see Peggy.”

Steve visibly perked up at the mention of her name. “Peggy?” he repeated.

“You said you’d want to visit her someday,” Bucky explained and cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. “Now would be the perfect time. It’ll help you take your mind off the present.”

“Bucky, are you jealous?” Steve teased and felt his heart constrict with a swell of pride when Bucky flushed in response.

“No,” Bucky said gruffly, tilting his head away from the camera in attempt to hide his blush. “Anyway—”

“Aw, Buck,” Steve cut in. “It’s nice to know that you love me _that_ much. Just remember that I love you too even though you’re such a jerk.”

Bucky tried to fix him with an unimpressed look, but it was evident that he was fighting to keep the corners of his lips from quirking into a smile. “Nice try asshole, but you’re evading again.”

Steve stuck his lower lip out and arranged his face into the most pleading expression he could muster. “I’m fine right here.”

“Nope, _nope_ , absolutely _not_ ,” Bucky said, and then the screen suddenly went blank. “Those puppy dog eyes won’t work on me if I don’t look at you.”

“Alright,” Steve finally conceded and leaned back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll go out.”

“Oh you better,” Bucky said as he angled the camera back to his face. “If you’re still sitting on the couch watching Netflix the next time I check on you, I’m coming over to drag you ass out myself.”

“You’re coming back?” Steve couldn’t help but ask. It’s been a while since Bucky mentioned anything about going on leave.

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed, his lips blossoming into a full smile. “I just got deployed on another op, but after that, I get thirty-days off.”

“That’s great!” Steve said and found himself mirroring Bucky’s smile easily. “See you soon then,” he added, but instead of signing off with a _goodbye_ or an _I love you_ , he told Bucky that he owed him a lot of sex and watched amusedly as his boyfriend’s cheeks flared into a deeper shade of red.

* * *

 

Steve never got the chance to FaceTime Bucky later that day because he came home to find Nick Fury sitting on his armchair.

His figure stood out starkly against the poor lighting, and he looked vastly out of place sprawled out over the cozy reading nook by the fireplace. Steve knew he should be relaxing at the sight of a familiar face, but there was something about Fury’s demeanor that made him marginally tenser.

“I don’t remember giving you the key,” Steve said accusingly, lowering his shield just a fraction as he waited for Fury to explain his presence.

“You really think I’d need one?” Fury asked and pulled himself upright with visible effort. “My wife kicked me out.”

The rest of the words that followed only gave rise even more suspicions, and Steve barely resisted the urge to snap at Fury as he strode forward to flick the lights on. A pale yellow glow suddenly flooded the room, highlighting a plethora mottled bruises littered across Fury’s face.

 _What happened?_ Steve wanted to ask, but Fury held up a silencing hand and leaned forward to switch off the lamp. The following events happened in a whirlwind. One moment Fury was telling him that SHIELD had been compromised, the next moment, his body was collapsing onto the ground with a loud thud.

Steve was taken aback by the resounding gunshots for a few heartbeats, but he forced his tense muscles to move and managed to drag Fury’s crumpled form away from the line of fire. Fury was frantically pressing something into his palm, and Steve instinctively closed his fingers around it as he craned his neck and strained to peer through the window blinds.

“Captain Rogers.” Another voice joined the chaos, and Steve whipped around towards the source to see Kate approaching them with a gun.

“Kate?” Steve blurted in disbelief, his mind still struggling to process all the information that had just been thrust upon him.

“Captain, I’m Agent 13 of SHIELD Special Service,” Kate stated as she continued to stalk toward them. “I’ve been assigned to protect you.”

“On who’s orders?”

Agent 13 stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Fury lying on the ground. “His,” she breathed and pulled a walkie talkie out of her pouch as she knelt next to Fury. “Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

_“Do we have a twenty on the shooter?”_

As if on cue, Steve turned back to the window in time to catch sight of a glint against the darkness. “Tell him I’m in pursuit,” he said, and without another warning, he took off into a mad sprint and launched himself through the window of his apartment. He landed on the balcony of the neighboring building with ease and kept his eyes trained on the shooter even as tore through a handful of dry walls in his path. Despite the various hindrances, Steve still managed to outrun the shooter, so when the man finally arrived on the roof deck, he was met with a solid punch to the face.

The force of the blow sent him reeling, but Steve caught him by the collar before his body could hit the ground. “Who sent you?” he growled and slammed the man against the nearest wall.

The man chocked at the sudden pressure on his chest, but after taking a few deep breaths, he gave Steve a snide grin that exposed all his bloodied teeth. When he opened his mouth, no sound came out, but instead, a steady stream of froth began to spill over his lips.

Steve jerked back from the man as if he’d been burnt. The all too familiar display sent a sickening wave of déjà vu down the pit of his stomach, and if it wasn’t for the harsh pulsing of adrenaline in his ears, he could’ve sworn that the man whispered _hail Hydra_ before going limp.

* * *

 

By dawn, Fury’s heart stopped after seven hours on the operating table.

By morning, Alexander Pierce called Steve into his office for questioning.

By noon, Steve was a wanted fugitive.

When he finally got away from the Triskeleton, he had to stop by a nearby gas station to change out of his uniform. He knew that SHIELD imbedded trackers into everything they gave him, and he also knew the risk of staying in the same place as the stealth suit that was currently stuffed in a duffel bag. But still, Steve locked himself in the bathroom for a few minutes longer as he tried to stave off an impending panic attack. He had been on his own for most parts of his life, but he couldn’t recall ever feeling so desperately alone.  It was clear that he was caught in the middle of some kind of conspiracy, but he didn’t know where to begin to drag himself out of the crossfire.

Bucky always knew what to say to him during situations like this. Steve wanted to call and say goodbye to him just in case it all goes to shit, but his personal phone was most likely being tracked, and he left his burner inside the drawer of his night stand. Going to Sam for help was out of the question too because he’d only be dragging another person into the mess. The only option he had left was the hard drive that Fury gave him.

He ran into Natasha at the hospital again, and this time, he had no other choice but to trust her.

* * *

 

Steve and Natasha ended up at Sam’s porch anyway because there was nowhere left for them to run after the disaster in New Jersey. Sam was wary at first, undoubtedly suspicious of everything he had heard from the news, but after Steve told him about the situation with Hydra and SHIELD, he easily accepted the hurried explanation, and opened the door wider to let them in.

Sam left them in the guest room while he went to the kitchen to get breakfast started, but after Natasha disappeared into the bathroom to shower, he sauntered into the room again and handed Steve his phone.

Bucky’s name was on top of the caller list.

“He’s worried about you,” Sam explained and reached out to squeeze Steve’s shoulder comfortingly before heading back to the kitchen to give him some privacy.

Once the door to the guest room slid shut, Steve collapsed onto the edge of the bed and tapped on Bucky’s name with shaking fingers.

The call connected halfway through the third ring, and Bucky’s raspy voice filtered through the static. “Sam?” he asked, his mind evidently still muddled with sleep. Steve felt guilty for calling him at such a late hour, but after all of Hydra’s attempts to murder him, there was a possibility that this might be his last chance to talk to Bucky.

“Hey,” Steve said and swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. “It’s Steve.”

“Steve?” Bucky echoed and trailed off for a few heartbeats before letting out a shaky exhale. “Oh thank _god_ , are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered, although he sounded too defeated to be convincing. “Did you hear about SHIELD?”

“Your face was plastered all over the news,” Bucky said with a humorless laugh. “I thought the government actually had you arrested and killed. _What the fuck happened_?”

Steve couldn’t help but flinch at the harshness of his tone. Bucky was clearly on the verge of breaking down, but as much as Steve wanted to reassure him that they were going to be okay, his own eyes were starting to prickle with tears. “SHIELD is Hydra.”

“ _What_?”

“I’ve been working for Hydra all along,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “I’ve been running those _damn missions_ for Hydra all along—”

“Steve,” Bucky cut him off, already predicting what he was about to say next. “You don’t have to blame yourself for everything. It’s not your fault.”

“But I should have noticed—”

“It’s not your fault,” Bucky repeated with a little more conviction. “Focus Steve, are you saying that everyone who works for SHIELD is Hydra?”

Steve shook his head in an absently to clear his thoughts, then realized that Bucky couldn’t see him. “I’m not sure. I’m with Natasha right now and so far we’re only sure that Clint’s not a part of Hydra.”

“Where are you now?” Bucky asked, the firmness in his tone ebbing away into concern.

“At Sam’s house,” Steve replied. “And I’m not injured by the way, incase you were about to ask.”

“Even if you were, you wouldn’t tell me,” Bucky pointed out, although the statement was more weary than bitter.

“Well, I’m not dead yet, so that’s good enough, right?”

“I hate you,” Bucky informed him, and then the line suddenly fell silent for a few moments.

“Bucky?”

“You’re not gonna stop, are you?”

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I kind of enjoy shooting at Nazis," Steve said, echoing Bucky's own words from the first time they met. When Bucky didn't respond however, Steve heaved a heavy sigh and went on. “The undersecretary of the World Security Council is Hydra, if no one else tries to stop them, who will?”

“I suppose there is no point in trying to talk you out of it?” Bucky prodded, and Steve couldn’t help but smile when he imagined Bucky pulling a face at him at the other side of the line.

“Probably not.”

“Do me a favor then,” Bucky went on. “Don’t die, and don’t forget to pick me up from the damn airport this time.”

“Hey, I didn’t forget!” Steve protested. “And I thought you said you weren’t mad about that.”

“People say a lot of things, Stevie.”

“Alright, I’ll pick you up from the airport,” Steve told him, but at this point,  it felt more like he was voicing his thoughts for the sake of reassuring them both.

* * *

 

Steve shouldn’t have made any promises because the next time he went back into the field, the STRIKE team nearly overpowered him twice with a tranquilizer gun that was likely developed based on the blood samples he had given to SHIELD. The first time, Maria Hill was there to pull him out of the mess, but the second time, Steve wasn’t so fortunate.

Rumlow used the same gun on him while they were grappling on the steel walkway of the third Hellicarrier, and although Steve managed to fight the sedatives long enough to replace the targeting blades, his drug-induced languidness made him an easy target for Rumlow to shoot at.

Three bullets whistled across the air, and all three found their marks.

Steve collapsed against the control panel and cradled Bucky’s dog tag in his hands as he prepared for the worst, but before Rumlow could aim the gun at his head, one of the metal beams crashed into the glass floorings of the Hellicarrier and sent Rumlow plummeting into the Potomac.

Steve breathed a shaky sigh –a mix of relief and resignation as he looked at the patch of red blooming across his stomach, and then at the world that was falling apart around him. He heard Maria Hill screaming something at him, but he reached out to pluck the comm from his ear and closed his eyes as he tried to remember what Bucky’s voice sounded like…

…then he heard Bucky screaming at him instead and willed him to stay awake even as he was freefalling into the water.

He was glad that he did because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to drag himself back onto the riverbank.

* * *

 

The next moment Steve opened his eyes again, he found himself immobilized in a hospital bed. Sam was sitting right next to him, looking like he was about to nod off, but he turned to Steve immediately after he rasped out a weak: “on your left.”

Instead of firing back a snarky response, Sam simply smirked at him and plucked his phone from where it was playing the Trouble Man soundtrack on the speakers. He tapped on the screen a few times, the smirk never leaving his face, and wordlessly offered the phone to Steve.

His latest text was from Bucky, and the message was written in all caps. “ _Tell me when that idiot finally wakes up so I can take the next flight to D.C. and strangle him myself.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god guys, sorry if this update came a lot later than usual, but life happened (ugh) and this particular chapter was just so damn hard to write. I also didn't watch the catws while I was writing this, which probably made the process a lot harder than it should've been, but I knew if I watched it again, I'd end up narrating the entire movie, and you guys wouldn't have appreciated that after a long wait, right?
> 
> Anyway, I really hope that this chapter was worth the wait. The next few months are going to be very busy for me as well, but I'll try to update as regularly as I can.
> 
> And just a little side note: Where the heck did Steve leave his shield while he was on the run? That thing is literally impossible to hide.
> 
> Your comments and kudos give me life guys :D Feel free to drop by and say hi on [Tumblr](http://silvials.tumblr.com/).


	9. I found a martyr in my bed tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song Some Nights by Fun

“Can you open your eyes, Stevie?” a familiar voice pierced through the endless expanse of darkness that had plagued his vision for the past few days.

Steve smiled at Bucky’s gentle coaxing and willed himself back into the realm of wakefulness, but the sight that greeted him wasn’t as pleasant as he expected. He found himself lying in the middle of a muddy clearing instead of a hospital bed, surrounded by looming trees and dark grey clouds that hung low over the sky like wafting ash. The air was heavy with the scent of blood and petichor, and there were echoes of gunfire reverberating in the distance.

Steve’s brows drew together in confusion as he sat up to survey his surroundings, and that was when he spotted Bucky’s crumpled figure lying a few feet away from him.

“Thought you’d never wake up,” Bucky said, as if nothing was amiss. His voice was barely above a whisper, and the gray hues in his eyes were more haunting than bright. He was clad in a dark blue pea coat that was similar to what the sergeants wore back in World War Two, but what caught Steve’s attention was the patch of red that was blossoming steadily across his stomach.

It took a while for Steve to process what he was seeing, but when the fog finally lifted from his mind, he scrambled over to Bucky’s side in spite of all his protesting muscles.

“Bucky, what—” Steve began, but the rest of the words were swallowed up by a choked-off sob. His hands hovered hesitantly over Bucky’s body, half convinced that he might fall apart under the slightest touch. Bucky looked so small and fragile while he was curled up on the forest floor, and Steve didn’t know what to do to help him alleviate the pain. In the end, he settled for sliding an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, carefully telegraphing his movements until he was able to prop him upright.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said and barely managed to keep himself from breaking down as he ran his free hand through Bucky’s damp hair. “Please tell me how this happened.”

“Someone had to watch your six,” Bucky replied, blinking owlishly at Steve. “That guy was about to shoot you,” he added falteringly and struggled to continue speaking while the rivulets of blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

They both flinched when the sound of gunfire grew louder, and Steve pulled Bucky’s limp form onto his lap in a meager attempt to shield him from the world around them. “Stay with me, Buck,” he begged and traced a thumb across Bucky’s cheeks soothingly. “Don’t close your eyes yet, please.”

Bucky shivered at the contact, as if his skin wasn’t ice-cold. He did as he was told and stared up at Steve unseeingly until the life in his eyes slowly faded into the color of the ashen sky overhead.

The scream that Steve let out rose above the roar of gunfire, but the war didn’t even stop to mourn his loss. He screwed his eyes shut as he waited for the battle to finally take him, but the next time he opened them again, the warzone had dispelled into the confines of his own bedroom.

He was lying precariously close to the edge of the bed, tangled up in the sheets and drenched in cold sweat.  His thoughts were eerily calm after everything he saw, but his heartbeat raced as wild as a hunted rabbit’s. Steve pulled himself upright despite the tremors that wracked his body and wiped furiously at the tear tracks on his cheeks before cradling his head in his hands. His phone was vibrating wildly on the nightstand, but he ignored it in favor of closing his eyes and allowing his thoughts to wander.

It’s been three weeks since the incident on the Hellicarriers, and two weeks since he last heard from Bucky.  The nightmares occurred almost on a daily basis after that, but Steve suspected it had little to do with Hydra’s re-emergence and more to do with Bucky’s radio silence. Bucky had called Steve on the day he was due to be discharged from the hospital, promising him bloody murder while letting out a slew of increasingly creative profanity, but after fifteen minutes of intense chastising, his tone eventually softened as he reminded Steve to wait for his call so he knew when to pick him up from the airport.

The call never came.                                                                                               

Steve’s initial reaction was to panic and call Rebecca, but she assured him that it was normal not to hear from Bucky at all while he was in the middle of an operation.  That appeased Steve enough to carry on with his life, but ironically enough, there wasn’t much left for him to do to keep him occupied for long. It took approximately two days before he started to worry about Bucky again, and that had resulted to Sam dragging him to the VA’s office every morning and making him sit though every single support group meeting he facilitated.

The meetings only succeeded in distracting him for a good part of the day, but during the nights when his dreams kept him up until dawn, Steve couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. He and Bucky had reached the point where they were both deployed into a mission at the same time, and yet they still sent text messages once in a while to tell each other that they were alright. The silence was unusual from Bucky, especially since he was the one who was constantly checking up on Steve.

His phone was still ringing on the nightstand, and somehow, the vibrations seemed to grow more urgent at every passing second.

Steve squinted towards the general direction of the wall clock and practically lunged for his phone once he realized just _how_ early in the morning it was. He had to stamp down a wave of disappointment however, when he saw Rebecca’s name on the incoming call screen instead of Bucky’s. Then the disappointment morphed into a vague sense of dread as he wondered why Bucky’s sister was calling him at this hour.

“Hello?” Steve said, a little surprised that he managed to keep his tone from wavering. The line was silent for a few moments, and then Rebecca’s voice broke though the static.

“Hello?” she echoed back, although her greeting sounded more wrecked than pleasant, almost as if she was choking back tears.

Steve tried very hard not to panic. “Hey, Rebecca,” he began warily, caught between wanting to know the truth and stalling the answer. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Bucky,” Rebecca said hoarsely, and even though Steve had already expected it, his heart still plummeted at the mention of his name. “His commanding officer just called—he said something about terrorists hijacking their operation. I-I don’t know what happened but they… they had Bucky air-lifted from Afghanistan— _oh god_ it must be bad. It must be bad and I don’t know _what to do_.”

“Did he tell you where they took him?” Steve asked as gently as he could while biting back the urge to scream.

“Walter Reed Medical Center,” Rebecca replied, her voice cracking as she succumbed to her tears. “It’s just here in Washington—please can you-”

“I’ll be there,” Steve assured. He was halfway out the door by this time, struggling to put on his shoes while holding the phone to his ear. The world gave a sickening lurch every time he so much as moved, but Steve forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until he reached the threshold. “Be careful,” he added before hanging up and bolting down the stairs.

Later, while he was speeding past every red light across the city, Steve told himself that Bucky was going to be okay and repeated the thought in his head like a mantra until he was finally convinced. The brush of the night air against his cheeks and the gentle hum of his motorcycle engine had succeeded in calming his nerves a bit, and in the end, he was relieved that he was on his way to a hospital and not a morgue.

* * *

 

“We’re not a match?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.”

“Oh god—what’s going to happen to him now?”

“I can call the blood bank to have them check for any matches, but the process might take a few hours, and I don’t think we have much time to spare.”

Steve hurried past the reception desk once he managed to decipher the distant conversation, ignoring the protest of the receptionist and following the source of the voices until he found Rebecca standing outside the operating room, pleading desperately with a man in a white coat.

“What’s going on?” he asked as he approached them.

Rebecca spun towards him immediately. “Steve,” she whispered, almost reverent as if she couldn’t quite believe he was here. Her expression was a study of pain and anguish, but Steve’s presence seemed to have eased some of the tension off her shoulders. She shook herself out of her momentary stupor once the silence grew too heavy and drew in a shaky breath before continuing. “Bucky’s losing a lot of blood, and we’re not a match. He needs a donor now or he might not—”

“We’re a match,” Steve said, recalling the night when Bucky was nestled in his arms and joking about how having the same blood type must be a sign that they were made for each other. The memory bloomed so clear in his mind that he had to stop himself from turning around to catch a glimpse of Bucky’s face. He remembered how terrifying it was for him to see Fury on the operating table, he didn’t know if he would be able to take seeing Bucky in the same situation.

“Are you sure?” Rebecca asked, and it took Steve a while to realize that she was addressing him.

“He gave me his dog tag,” he said and pulled the dog tag from his shirt to check if he was correct, although he knew that was just an excuse to clutch it in his hand and ground himself.

Rebecca turned her hopeful eyes to the doctor. “That’ll be enough to perform a blood transfusion now, right?”

The doctor nodded, but his lips pursed in a way that was usually a prelude to bad news. “There might still be a possibility of an infection.”

“Why?” Steve asked, his tone a little harsher than he would’ve liked. The doctor didn’t deserve the frustration that he was taking out on him, but right now Steve’s only concern was to make sure Bucky made it through the night.

“You’re Captain Rogers, I presume?”

Steve dipped his head at him wordlessly.

“The serum in your bloodstream is considered as an anomaly,” the doctor explained. “There’s a chance that Mr. Barnes’ body will reject it.”

“But there’s also a chance that it won’t, right?” Rebecca pointed out, her tone edging more towards desperation than certainty.

“A slim chance,” the doctor told them earnestly. “It all depends now if you’re willing to take the risk.”

“It’s not my call,” Rebecca whispered under her breath and turned towards Steve imploringly, but she didn’t have to say anything else to convince him to give his blood.

“Anything,” Steve said, trying to sound firm despite the tears prickling behind his eyes. “I’d give anything.”

“Alright then,” the doctor said and beckoned Steve to follow him as he began to make his way down the hall.

* * *

 

Steve didn’t know how long he had been sitting in the waiting lounge until he checked the time and realized that he had missed both his morning run and his meeting at the VA’s office. He pulled his phone out to shoot a quick apology to Sam, but Sam had already beaten him to it and sent a text message asking him if he was alright.

Steve sighed and sat up a little straighter against the uncomfortable plastic chair. Nothing much had changed over the past few hours. His heart was still threatening to ride up his throat and his nerves were still frayed with the remnants of shock. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk to anyone, but it felt too impersonal to explain everything through a text.

As if on cue, his phone lit up with Sam’s incoming call. Steve thought of red phoning him at first, but then he berated himself for being selfish. Sam had every right to know what happened because Bucky was his friend too.

Rebecca was fast asleep on the seat next to him, so Steve strode over to the far end of the room before answering the call.

“Hey man,” Sam said cheerily, although he was obviously trying to hide his relief behind the casual greeting. “Did you oversleep or something?”

Steve couldn’t help but wish it was that simple. The words that he was about to say suddenly seemed too overwhelming, and he had to close his eyes and  take a deep, steadying breath in order to find the courage to speak again. “Bucky’s in the hospital.”

The line was silent for a few moments, and then there was the unmistakable sound of Sam shifting his phone around to make sure he had heard him right. “What?”

“He was airlifted to Washington this morning,” Steve clarified. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a nurse come out of the double doors of the emergency room and approach Rebecca. The nurse’s face betrayed no emotion, but Steve’s heart still stuttered when she leaned towards Rebecca to whisper something in her ear.

“I have to go,” he told Sam distraughtly. The nurse had disappeared back into the emergency room, but Rebecca was still sitting in the waiting lounge with her gaze fixated on Steve. Tears were trickling down her cheeks, but she offered Steve a small smile when he turned around to look at her.

“He’s okay,” Rebecca mouthed, her eyes wide as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself. Then she stood up unsteadily and motioned for him to follow.

Steve couldn’t quite hear what Sam was saying on the phone, but he told him that Bucky was alright and rattled off their location before hanging up and breaking into a sprint after Rebecca. He followed her to the end of the hall where Bucky’s room was supposedly situated, but the nurse stopped him before he could get through the door.

“I’m sorry sir, immediate family only,” she explained, though her tone indicated that she was more nonchalant than apologetic.

“It’s fine,” Rebecca said from her place by Bucky’s bedside. She didn’t turn around to face them but there was obviously an edge of warning in her statement.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse insisted. “It’s a part of our policy not to permit—”

“It’s fine,” a third voice cut in, and Steve turned around to see a doctor standing by the doorway behind them. It wasn’t the same man he talked to outside the operating room, so Steve assumed he must be the doctor who performed surgery on Bucky.

The nurse’s mouth snapped shut immediately after that. She dipped her head at them in acknowledgement and turned on her heels to leave.

“Thank you,” Steve told the doctor before striding over to stand next to Rebecca at Bucky’s bedside. He tried not to break down as he took in Bucky’s deteriorated state, but a wave of nausea seized him once he saw the stump that used to be Bucky’s left arm. Steve lowered his head in a poor attempt to hide his tears and clutched at the railings of the bed as he struggled to keep his breaths steady.

“So this is what the nurse meant when she said they couldn’t save all of him,” Rebecca whispered. She looked pale as a ghost surrounded by the glow of the harsh fluorescent lights, and her blue-grey eyes were almost transparent beneath the glaze of her own tears.

“He’s here,” Steve said, swallowing thickly as he fought to keep the images of his earlier nightmare from forming in his mind. “He’s alive.”

“Yeah…he’s alive,” Rebecca echoed and reached over to take Bucky’s hand like she was making sure her brother was really there.

“We tried to salvage his arm,” the doctor said as he approached them, and Steve was surprised to find traces of genuine remorse written across his expression. “There was a chance it could have been saved through the blood transfusion process, but the infection had already festered when he was brought here, and we had no other choice but to amputate it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you did everything you could,” Rebecca said and placed her hand on the doctor’s shoulder reassuringly. The gesture seemed so intimate that it made Steve feel like he was intruding, and he briefly wondered if the two had met each other before. Then, as if reading his thoughts, Rebecca turned to Steve again and introduced the man as her husband.

The doctor held out his hand to him. “It’s an honor, Captain, although I wish we could have met under a different circumstance.”

“Thank you for saving him,” Steve said and shook his hand with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is he going to be okay?”

“It’s hard to say,” the doctor admitted, a crease settling between his brows as glanced at Bucky’s heart monitor. “He appears to be stable now, but we’re anticipating a few complications due to the serum. He’s also lost an alarming amount of blood, so it might take him a whole to regain consciousness.”

Steve nodded absently at his words and pulled up a nearby chair before collapsing heavily onto it. He took Bucky’s hand and held it to his lips, closing his eyes as he began his bedside vigil.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

Bucky regained consciousness a lot sooner than the doctors had expected, which was a sign that the serum was already taking effect. The first time he opened his eyes, he was too disoriented to recognize his surroundings. It took both Steve and Rebecca to bring him out of his trance, but when the mist finally cleared from Bucky’s eyes, the steady silence of the room was suddenly broken by the frantic beats of his heart rate monitor.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asked, his voice faltering as he struggled to keep his breaths steady. His ragged breathing made it hard to tell whether he meant it as an accusation or not, but either way, the words still sent a twinge of hurt through Steve’s heart.

Steve wanted to comfort him—wanted to ask what he did wrong, but at the moment, his mind wasn’t capable of forming anything other than half-formed thoughts.  Rebecca took his lack of a response as a chance to step forward and kneel next to the bed. She reached out to place her hand over Bucky’s, but Bucky only flinched away from the contact.

“Don’t,” he told her pleadingly, then shifted his gaze back towards Steve. “Get her out of here please. It’s too dangerous.”

Both Steve and Rebecca froze once the meaning of Bucky’s fevered ramblings finally sank in, and Bucky continued to stare at them earnestly before closing his eyes and allowing his tears to fall.

“Buck, no.” Steve slid out of his own seat and settled on the edge of the bed where Bucky’s left arm was supposed to be. He began to card his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and absently let out a soft hum of encouragement when Bucky’s head lolled into his touch. “You’re not in Afghanistan anymore; you’re at a hospital in Washington.”

“You’re not real," Bucky told him and kept his eyes firmly shut as if he was trying to ward off a bad dream.

“I am,” Steve persisted, stroking his thumb across the crease between Bucky’s brows.

“Then you shouldn’t be here,” Bucky said. His voice was barely above a whisper, although the urgency underlying his words bled through as if he had shouted them. “I already lost _them_ …I can’t lose you too.”

“Bucky, your unit’s okay,” Rebecca said as she clambered over the metal railing and sat next to Steve. The bed was starting to creak from all their combined weights, but Rebecca ignored it and leaned forward, putting herself directly in Bucky’s line of sight. “You saved them,” she went on with a little more conviction. “I don’t know the whole story, but you saved them, and they saved you too. They pulled you out of the wreckage and brought you here to Washington. You’re home now, Bucky, and you’re safe here—me and Steve are safe here too.”

Bucky’s eyelids were heavy with the lingering effects of the sedatives, but he managed to open his eyes enough to fix them with a disbelieving look as he processed Rebecca’s words. The tension visibly drained from his shoulders after a few moments, and the corners of his lips twitched the beginnings of a smile before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

Steve couldn’t recall the last time he had felt this tired.

The serum had enhanced everything from his physical appearance down to his stamina, and even though Steve still had a hard time reconciling the past with the present, he never forgot about any of the abilities the serum had given him.  He knew he could go days without sleep; he had already tested his limits back when Fury sent him to Laos to track down a group of mercenaries. The mission had taken him about 48 hours to complete, although he remembered coming back to his apartment that night feeling only mildly tired.

Right now, however, he felt more like his 90-pound asthmatic self who was about to go down with the flu. The last few hours had taken a toll on him, and as soon as the doctor declared that Bucky was stable, Steve’s concern was immediately replaced by a sense of bone-deep exhaustion. He still stayed by Bucky’s side despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and pass out, and by the time Rebecca left to fetch a few things from her apartment, Steve was already on the brink of falling asleep in his chair.

A stifled groan and a shift in the heart rate monitor suddenly interrupted his light slumber, and Steve tensed as he absently wondered how Bucky would react to his presence this time.

After a few minutes of restless shifting, Bucky let out a pained whine and pressed his face into the pillow like he was trying to block out the sound of his own heartbeat. Steve rushed to his side without another second thought but kept himself from reaching out, fearing he’d only end up startling Bucky more if he touched him in his disoriented state.

“Buck, can you hear me?” he asked instead.

Bucky let out another whine in response. His eyes remained screwed shut, but he tilted his head towards the direction of Steve’s voice, seeking out his touch. The gesture would have been endearing if his expression wasn’t wrenched with pain, and Steve placed a hand on the side of his face in a feeble attempt to provide comfort.

“S’loud,” Bucky said, although it almost sounded like a grunt because of how hard he was gritting his teeth.

“I know.” Steve leaned over to plant a kiss on his forehead in a hope to redirect his attention. “That’s just a side-effect of the serum, it’ll go away soon. In the mean time, try to focus on my voice, okay?”

Bucky’s brows pinched together as he processed his words. “What do you mean… _serum?_ ”

Steve tilted his head at him in confusion, but then he realized he’d accidentally blurted something he was supposed to be saving for a later conversation. “What do you remember?” he asked instead.

“We were on our way back to the base after patrolling the borders, but then…but then everything suddenly erupted into dust. One of the guys got pinned under the wreckage. He couldn’t walk, and there was an unexploded IED nearby. I tried to diffuse it to buy him some time, but—” Bucky eyes grew frantic as he struggled search through the fog in his memories. “Oh god…”

Steve cut him off before he could jump to any morbid conclusions. “He’s okay, Buck. They’re all okay, but you were hurt pretty badly. You already lost a lot of blood when you were brought here, so I gave you mine.”

“Oh…” Bucky said and simply looked at him dazedly for a few heartbeats. “I thought this was a dream.”

“It’s not,” Steve reassured, stroking a thumb over Bucky’s cheek. “I’m here.”

Bucky smiled at him dopily and tried to reach out to touch his face. That was when Steve realized he shouldn’t have stayed at Bucky’s left side. Bucky frowned when he found that he couldn’t move his arm and stole a glance down the blanket before Steve could stop him.

“Makes sense,” he croaked, letting out a tired sigh as he stared at the stump of his left arm. It wasn’t the reaction Steve had been expecting, and he wondered whether he should be worried about it or not.

“Buck…”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said, then winced at the abruptness of his own response. “Hey, don’t give me that look, Stevie. It could’ve been worse, right? It could’ve been my face.”

Steve could tell that he was egging on him, but he wasn’t about to pressure Bucky into talking about something he hadn’t quite come in terms with yet, so he rose to the bait. “But I like your face.”

 “Exactly,” Bucky replied dryly. “Now could you help a guy out and move to the other side so I can give you a hug?”

Steve wanted to throw back a snarky remark, but somehow he found himself incapable of saying anything as he sauntered over to the other side of the bed and nestled himself in Bucky’s outstretched arm. He wasn’t aware of the tears building up behind his eyes until a pathetic sob tore out of his throat. The floodgates were already open, and any attempt to hold back the tears only succeeded in making them more aggressive.

“It’s okay, just let it out,” Bucky whispered as he guided Steve’s head onto the crook of his neck, trying to comfort him even though he should be the one grieving.

Steve knew he’d only feel guilty about it later, but he tightened his arms around Bucky and finally allowed himself to cry for nearly losing the only anchor he had left in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself that I'd update at least once a month, but then life and school and writer's block happened at the same time and now I have this chapter as a result. I was also in a rush while writing this, so I apologize for any typos/grammatical errors. 
> 
> I really hope this chapter was worth the wait even though things took an unexpected turn, but don't worry too much about Steve and Bucky because I love my boys and I'll give them the happiness they deserve.
> 
> Your comments and kudos give me life guys :D Feel free to drop by and say hi on [Tumblr](http://silvials.tumblr.com/).


	10. If only I could go back to when I was me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song I Was Me by Imagine Dragons. 
> 
> It's a beautifully underrated song that talks about veterans dealing with PTSD. If you haven't heard it yet, I suggest you check it out. 
> 
> This song can also serve as a trigger warning for the oncoming chapter.

When Bucky was finally discharged from the hospital, Steve thought that things were going to get better from there, but now he wasn’t so sure of where they stand between progress and setback as he watched Bucky stare off into the distance.

They were sprawled out on the couch inside Steve’s apartment, watching one of Bucky’s favorite Netflix originals. They had started off sitting at the opposite ends of the couch, but at some point, Bucky had crawled over to Steve and draped himself on top of him like an overlarge blanket. He had his hand buried in a bowl of popcorn, seemingly too engrossed with the film to realize it was there. To any other outsider, Bucky’s lack of movement would have simply be dismissed as keen interest, but Steve knew better because he had often fallen into the same blank stare back when he was still adjusting to civilian life.

This had been going on for several weeks now. Sometimes Steve would find Bucky staring at a distant point on the wall in the middle of the night, other times he would be having a conversation with Bucky only to realize he wasn’t with him at all. As much as Steve wanted to help, he had no idea how to bring it up without overstepping his boundaries. Bucky had the habit reverting back to his usual self once he’s roused from his stupor, offering Steve a sheepish smile and telling him he was fine before Steve even got the chance to ask. Recently he had resorted to using Netflix as an escape route, which made it even more difficult for Steve to get to the topic at hand.

Steve’s phone chimed somewhere during the climax of the movie, and Bucky didn’t even react when he leaned over him to retrieve it from the coffee table. The screen lit up with Rebecca’s text message asking if she could come over, but Steve took one look at Bucky and told her it probably wasn’t the right time. Rebecca’s next reply came within a few seconds, but this time, she asked how Bucky was doing instead.

Both he and Rebecca had decided it would be best for Bucky to stay with him once he’d been discharged, and even Sam had given his seal of approval because he thought they would understand each other better now that they were both veterans. Looking back at it made Steve wonder whether they had made the right decision or not, because at this point, Bucky seemed to be drifting farther and farther away from reality as each day passed.

The credits were already rolling by the time Steve ended his conversation with Rebecca, and he gave Bucky a gentle nudge to pull him out of his trance. It always took a while, but Bucky would eventually come out of it and flash Steve a reassuring smile. Steve dreaded the day when Bucky’s stare would remain blank even after he’s been jostled. It wasn’t inevitable, but it was a possibility—he knew from the countless stories he’d heard during the VA meetings.

“Hey,” Bucky greeted, which was something he had never done before. Steve was caught off guard for a moment, but he managed to return the greeting before the silence became awkward. “Hungry?” he asked, almost as an afterthought.

“I’d kill for some Thai food,” Bucky said, and they went through the rest of their day pretending nothing had changed.

* * *

 

It was hard to keep up the illusion at times, especially with an injury as evident as an amputated arm.

Bucky lost his balance a lot because his body hadn’t stopped compensating for the weight that was no longer there, and more often than not, he would use that as an excuse to flop boneless against Steve and demand to be carried. Bucky also loved to joke about his injury, which was something Steve didn’t know whether to consider a good thing or a bad thing. Every morning, Bucky would pin him against the bed and remind him that he was still capable of fucking him through the mattress even with one arm, although he never followed through with his word, and Steve understood because losing an arm was more than enough to kill someone’s libido.

However, there were certain things that couldn’t be brushed off so casually. As much as Bucky hated to admit, he needed Steve’s help in order to function. He often got tangled up in his own clothes in the process of getting dressed, and even though he never protested at Steve’s help, the clench in his jaw suggested that he was definitely not happy with the situation. He also needed Steve to open water bottles and food packaging for him, and during the times when he felt too despondent to do anything, he needed Steve to help him bathe.

This soon became a routine that they both easily adapted to, so Steve was pleasantly surprised to find Bucky in the kitchen one morning, stirring a bowl of pancake batter with one hand and making a mess everywhere. He looked at Steve guiltily when he approached, but as soon as Steve assured him that the mess wasn’t a big deal, he immediately volunteered to help him cook. Cleaning up after cooking together was more work than cooking alone, but Steve wasn’t about to complain. He was mostly just glad that Bucky finally found something to keep himself occupied, but there were some days when it was also difficult for him to maintain a cheerful facade.

“Buck, c’mon stop that,” Steve said, allowing a hint of annoyance to creep into his tone. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night because of another bad dream, but instead of doing the things he usually did to seek comfort, he spent the rest of the night trying to coax Bucky out of another dissociative fit.

Bucky obviously wanted to make it up to him by cooking breakfast, but the seeing his boyfriend getting flour all over the kitchen floor was more irksome than endearing.

“Buck,” Steve called warningly and moved the glass pitcher away so he could lean over the countertop and poke Bucky on the shoulder. Bucky, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, let out a loud huff and scooted away from him. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can handle it,” Steve said with an equally loud huff. “I’d just rather you not right now.” When Bucky continued to ignore him, Steve rolled his eyes and leaned farther over the countertop in attempt to wrestle the bowl out of Bucky’s hands. He didn’t realize he had knocked the pitcher over until the sound of shattering glass reverberated through the room. He turned around to glare at Bucky, only to find him curled up into a ball against the base of the center island. He was looking directly at Steve, although he couldn’t seem to see him at all beneath the cloud of fear over his eyes.

The sight sent Steve’s heart plummeting into his stomach, and he hurried around the counter to crouch down in front of Bucky. “Hey, Buck,” he began hesitantly. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Those weren’t gunshots. It’s just the glass, see?” He made a vague gesture towards the shards scattered across the ground, but when Bucky still didn’t respond, Steve reached out slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe now. You’re not in Afghanistan anymore, you’re hom—”

“I’m fine,” Bucky cut him off and brushed his hand away. He made a move to get up but Steve gently pushed him back against the counter.

“Buck—”

“Stop treating me like I’m made of fucking glass!” Bucky snapped, his voice echoing so loudly that it nearly made Steve recoil. Silence crept between them as they both stared at each other for a few moments, and then Bucky’s eyes widened once he realized what he’d done.

“Oh god, Steve,” he said, his breaths coming out in short gasps. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Steve reassured him before he could start babbling. “It’s my fault anyway,” he added and inched closer to Bucky until the space between them became nonexistent. Bucky’s breathing was still labored, a sign that he was on the verge of a panic attack, so Steve moved his hand from where it was resting on his shoulder and gathered him into an embrace. Once Bucky’s breathing pattern evened out, Steve coaxed him to stand up and began leading him away from the kitchen.

“Let me help you clean up,” Bucky protested weakly, twisting around to look at the mess he made.

“That can wait,” Steve said and continued to steer Bucky away until they reached their bedroom. He strode over to the bed after opening the door and beckoned Bucky over as he stretched out on the half-reclined pillows. Bucky settled between his waiting arms with his back to Steve’s chest, and they simply laid there listening to the sound of their each other’s heartbeats.

Steve didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but when he peered out the window, the sun was already high on its peak. He thought about getting brunch started and was just about to do some skillful maneuvering to extract himself from the bed when Bucky’s voice suddenly broke the stillness of the room.

“I don’t regret it,” he said without any preamble, and Steve suspected he was just trying to convince himself by saying it out loud.

“I know, Buck,” he said in the same placating tone he always used whenever he was talking to Bucky these days.

Bucky shook his head and sat up so he could meet Steve’s eyes. “I just realized I never told you the reason why I enlisted.”

 _You don’t have to,_ Steve almost said, but Bucky didn’t seem uncomfortable with the subject so he wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer as a silent encouragement for him to continue.

Bucky melted against his embrace and took a deep breath before speaking up again. “My dad was in the army, and back when I was a kid, being a soldier seemed like the best job in the world. Listening to my dad’s stories made me want to enlist as well, but my mom didn’t approve of that. She kept hinting at other possible career paths until I took interest in robotics. Figured I’d be able to help amputated veterans get back on their feet by building prosthetics for them,” he paused to look down at the stump of his left arm, letting out a self-depreciating laugh. “God, this is ironic.”

“Why didn’t you?” Steve asked as he began to rub comforting circles around Bucky’s hip with his thumb.

“I did, but when I was in my freshman year, some drunk asshole ran over my parents while they were on their way home from their anniversary dinner.”

_Oh._

Saying _sorry_ probably wasn’t going to alleviate the pain that Bucky must be feeling, so Steve settled for planting a kiss on his forehead instead.

“Anyway,” Bucky went on with an obvious strain in his voice. “They saved up enough money to cover four years of my tuition, but Becca was three years behind me, so I decided to drop out to give her a chance to go to college. I ended up joining the army anyway to pay the bills. Becoming a soldier was nothing like I had envisioned as a child, but I’ve always wanted to help people, and in a way, I was protecting countless of civilians from dying at the hands of those asshole terrorists—so yeah…I don’t regret it.”

“Wow,” Steve blurted, completely at a loss on what else to say. He pulled Bucky tighter against him and planted a kiss on his lips this time. It was close-mouthed and sweet—nothing unlike their usual, but Steve hoped it would convey all the admiration he felt for Bucky at the moment. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he told him just to be sure.

“I don’t feel so amazing,” Bucky confessed, burying his face in the crook of Steve’s neck like he was ashamed. “I feel like a deadweight.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re still getting used to it, that’s all.”

Bucky nodded against him, but Steve got the feeling that he wasn’t entirely convinced. The conversation trailed off after that, but Steve spoke up again before they could fall back into a spell of silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before? About your parents I mean.” He asked, careful to keep his voice curious rather than accusatory. He felt Bucky shift and panicked for a moment thinking he was about to leave, but it turns out Bucky was only trying to arrange himself into a more comfortable position.

“You already had enough on your plate,” Bucky said in a tone that made it seem like a universal fact. “I wanted to help you.”

“Well I want to help you to,” Steve said, although his statement lacked the conviction that he was aiming for. “Buck, if there’s anything bothering you, feel free to tell me, okay?” He added and waited for Bucky’s answering nod before continuing. “I feel like I haven’t been giving enough to you.”

“What?” Bucky’s gaze snapped towards him all of a sudden, an incredulous expression on his face. “Steve’ that’s not—”

“No no, hear me out,” Steve interrupted him, though not unkindly. “I know you must feel like your world is falling apart right now. That’s exactly how I felt when I woke up into the 21st century, but you always made sure to keep me company so I wouldn’t lose myself. It’s only fair for me to return the favor now that it’s the other way around. I’m not putting up with you, or tolerating you—or anything, Buck. I love you. Let me take care of you this time.” He had a whole lot more to say in his head, but he managed to stop himself before he broke into a tirade.

Bucky seemed satisfied with what he heard, although there was a glimmer in his eyes that suggested he was getting ready to call Steve a sap. Steve prepared a witty remark just in case, but surprisingly, Bucky only smiled softly at him and curled up into his embrace like a cat seeking affection. He started to drift off after a few minutes, but not before echoing Steve’s _I love you_ in the most tender voice he had ever heard.

Steve counted it as progress.

* * *

 

When Steve woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of Bucky’s voice drifting from the open door. He rolled over onto his side and buried his head underneath a pillow, but his heightened senses made it difficult for him to block out any nearby noise. He gave up trying not to eavesdrop after a few minutes and opted to fling the pillow aside and wait for Bucky to finish his conversation. It seemed like Bucky was on the phone with someone, but the hum of the stove and the crackling of oil against a pan mingled with the voice of whoever was on the other end.

Steve sat up once he heard Bucky exchanging goodbyes, but just as he was about to slide out from under the covers, Bucky appeared at the doorway holding his phone against his ear.

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you then,” he was saying. He flung his phone aside shortly after finishing the call and flopped onto the bed beside Steve. The mattress jolted under his weight, but Bucky didn’t seem all that concerned about the safety of his phone, and instead used the momentum to tackle Steve into an embrace.

“Whoa, hey,” Steve laughed, returning Bucky’s enthusiasm with a teasing peck to his cheek. “Good morning to you too,” he said and took a moment to asses Bucky. He looked considerably _lighter_ than he did the other day; his eyes less hollow and his smiles more genuine. It made Steve wonder who he was talking to on the phone.

“I made breakfast,” Bucky said before he could think to ask.

“You didn’t have to,” Steve responded automatically, then grimaced once he remembered what happened the last time they tried to make breakfast together.

“You needed to sleep after yesterday,” Bucky said, as if reading his thoughts. There was a silent apology in his eyes, but he went on before either of them could dwell on it. “I wanted to help too.”

“Well, it smells amazing,” Steve told him and paused to sniff the air exaggeratedly. “It smells a little bit burnt too.”

Bucky actually looked offended this time. “I made _pancakes_ , it‘s impossible to burn pancakes. I’m not that bad at cooking!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Steve cut him off mid-rant, took his hand and dragged him off the bed. Bucky sulked all the way to the kitchen, which was an impressive feat given the fact that the kitchen was only a few steps away. Once they reached the counter, Bucky pushed Steve onto one of the barstools and immediately began heaping his plate with a stack of pancakes. They were fluffier and sweeter than what Steve was used to, but they were definitely perfectly cooked. Bucky finally stopped pouting when he grudgingly admitted that he did a good job, and they finished the rest of their pancakes while basking in the warm yellow glow that accompanied the early morning silence.

The whole situation had a surreal tinge to it, as if he was watching everything through a film reel. Even the slightest noise would shatter the brief moment of tranquility they had created for themselves, but when Bucky spoke, his voice blended seamlessly with the stillness of the air. “I used instant mix this time.”

Steve’s initial reaction was to lift a brow at him, but it turned into a grimace once the memory came back to him. “Forget about that. I was just being an asshole.”

The corners of Bucky’s lips pulled into a wry smile. “You finally admitting that you’re a grumpy old man?”

“A grumpy old man who also happens to be an asshole,” Steve agreed. “Sorry, I was just having a bad day.”

“I get it.” Bucky laid his head on Steve’s shoulder and curled up against him as much as he can while sitting on a barstool. “Sorry I yelled at you.”

“It’s okay. You needed it.”

“And you needed it too,” Bucky said, like it was an argument, and Steve leaned back to narrow his eyes at him in suspicion. “Where is this going?”

Bucky blinked at him innocently, but eventually gave up his act with a put upon sigh. “Sam called me a while ago to ask how I was doing, and I sort of just…told him about my meltdown yesterday.”

Steve nodded absently, a little envious of Sam’s ability of swaying people into confessing all their problems to him, “what did he say?”

“He told me to drop by one of his support group meetings,” Bucky replied, although he didn’t seem inclined to do it. Steve remembered feeling the same hesitance when Sam first introduced the idea to him. He didn’t like talking to people about his problems; it felt too much like he was unloading a burden onto someone else because he was sick of carrying the weight. He knew Bucky must be feeling the same way, but adding a familiar face to the crowd of strangers might be able to change his mind.

“Maybe we can go together,” he offered. Bucky immediately perked up at the suggestion, and Steve realized he had played exactly into his hand. “You wanted me to go all along, didn’t you?”

“Sam told me you used to go after your morning run.”

“No, Sam _dragged_ me there after our morning run and it sort of became a habit.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to laugh, but then his contented expression turned guilty all of a sudden. “I’m keeping you from going.”

“You’re not,” Steve said with more indignation than he meant to. Bucky seemed more amused with him now but he still felt the need to say more. “I went to those meetings to keep myself from worrying too much about you, but now that I have you back, I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

“We’re going together then,” Bucky decided and ducked his head in a poor attempt to hide the flush spreading across his face.

Steve smiled at the idea, but he was mostly just giddy that he was still able to make Bucky blush after all this time. “I’d like that,” he told Bucky and pulled him into those one-armed embraces he seemed to love so much.

Predictably, Bucky melted against him, but he drew away after a few moments to fix him with a downcast look.  “Not tomorrow though. I don’t think I feel like going out yet.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said, his gaze drifting towards the physical therapy pamphlet sitting on the same spot where Rebecca left it the last time she visited. “Your pace, Buck.”

* * *

 

Bucky’s pace turned out to be a lot faster than Steve had expected, and less than two weeks after they spoke, Bucky was already visiting the VA’s office on a daily basis. The support group meetings seemed to help speed up his recovery process, but a part of Steve still dreaded the inevitable catalyst that would set them back to where they first started. It happened before and it was bound to happen again, although he was pleased to note that Bucky’s apathetic bouts were occurring less and less.

Steve had fulfilled his promise of accompanying Bucky to his VA meetings, but there were times when _he_ was the one feeling apathetic, and he’d want nothing more than to curl up in a pile of blankets and sleep until the world felt a little less heavy.

Bucky never complained whenever he needed time for himself, although Steve suspected his silence also meant that he was probably berating himself for being deadweight. He wanted to bring it up, but most of the time, he’d end up simply Bucky goodbye because he was afraid that mentioning it would shatter their sense of normalcy.

Bucky always came back looking more withdrawn every time he went to the VA’s office by himself, but he always reverted back to his usual self before Steve could wallow in his own guilt.

It quickly became clear that Bucky’s pensive moods were a vital part of his recovery, because after several days of going to support group meetings on his own, he started letting Rebecca take him to physical therapy sessions as well. Having Rebecca in the picture definitely lightened the load, but whenever Steve wasn’t thinking about the state of Bucky’s mental health, he was thinking about how his friends were doing. He worried about Natasha, who was on the run after what happened in the Triskelleton. He worried about Clint, who Hydra/SHIELD had sent to complete an obscure mission in Thailand—heck, he was even worried about Tony after watching the whole extremis incident play out on the news.

Of course, Bucky never failed to notice whenever he was feeling particularly anxious. Sometimes, Steve would wear his heart on his sleeve and pour out all the thoughts that were pestering his mind, but most of the time, he was content with holding Bucky close and listening to him breathe. Sam said regular physical contact was therapeutic for both of them, but quiet moments like this also helped Steve appreciate how much had remained the same despite the drastic changes that had occurred in their lives. Bucky still constantly looked out for him even after he nearly lost himself, and Steve didn’t know it was even possible for him to fall more and more in love every day.

* * *

 

“Let’s go running,” Bucky said while they were coming back from the VA’s office one day, and it made Steve pause halfway through unlocking the door to fix him with a quizzical look.

“Now?” he asked and immediately realized the absurdity of the question even before Bucky rolled his eyes at him.

“No, not now unless you want to die of a heat stroke…but then again, I don’t think you’re even capable of getting a heart stroke.”

“Which means you can’t either,” Steve pointed out. It took some time to get used to, but they were fully aware that Bucky had the same serum in his veins.

“So, you’re saying we should go running now?” the note of eagerness in Bucky’s voice did well to mask his exhaustion, but when Steve turned around to look at him, he found that Bucky was a little too pallid for his liking. He was always like this after an intense support group session, and he never suggested going anywhere unless he was feeling relatively guilty about something. He did it once when he felt bad for letting Steve do all the grocery shopping, and right now, he probably thought he was depriving Steve of his morning routine.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Steve said as he opened the door and beckoned Bucky to go inside.

Bucky stopped at the threshold to lift a brow at him. “What do you mean?”

Steve shut the door behind him before striding over to take Bucky by the shoulders. “You don’t have to do things that you’re not comfortable with for my sake.”

“I know,” Bucky said after a moment of contemplative silence, flashing Steve a gentle smile as if to reinforce his statement. “My physical therapist said I should do daily exercises to keep my muscles from cramping, and I thought I’d go on morning runs with you again because I miss it.”

“Oh,” Steve had to swallow to keep the rest of the words from escaping his throat. Bucky must have sense his oncoming rant because his smile grew lewd as he tugged Steve against him. “You were about to go all self-righteous,” Bucky said while dragging him in for a kiss. “I love it when you do that.”

“I’m glad to know that,” Steve muttered against the kiss. His dick was starting to twitch from all the attention he was getting, but Bucky pulled away before things could get out of hand. The sudden loss of contact stung a little, and Steve had to steel himself in order to keep the hurt from showing across his expression. He’d just told Bucky not to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, and he wasn’t about to cross that boundary because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“How does tomorrow morning sound?” he asked instead.

Bucky’s answering smile was more than enough to keep the unbidden thoughts from creeping into his mind.

The first few days were a little rough since Bucky wasn’t exactly in a fit condition to run. His body hadn’t quite regained its equilibrium yet despite the physical therapy, and he kept listing dangerously to one side every time he tried to keep in pace with Steve. At some point, Steve had decided to run beside Bucky to catch him just in case he fell over, but all he got in return was a half-hearted glare.

“I can take a few scrapes and burns,” Bucky said while giving him a playful shove forward. “Now be free you goddamn Ferrari.  I know you like to show off.”

Steve did as he was told and lapped him four times after that. He figured Bucky would respond better to a challenge than a show of concern, and he ended up being right. It took only a week for Bucky to catch up to him, the combination of the serum and his stubborn determination allowing him to push his limits.

Sam started joining them after the third week, and he immediately regretted his decision when they lapped him twice.

“I hate you both,” he gritted out just as Steve and Bucky raced past him while simultaneously yelling _on your left_ and _on your right._ Bucky only snorted at him in response before disappearing into a metaphorical cloud of dust. Steve, on the other hand, opted to slow down to check on Sam. He seemed disgruntled by the fact that he’d just been lapped by an old man and an amputee, but the look disappeared when he met Steve’s gaze.

“Your boy’s doing good,” he remarked offhandedly.

“He is,” Steve agreed. The expression on his face must have been beyond sappy because it made Sam turn away in mock disgust.

“That’s it, I’m done. I’m absolutely done,” he announced as he stalked over to the nearest bench. “I’m gonna wait over here while you guys finish your weird-ass foreplay.”

“It’s not foreplay,” Steve said, although it sounded too weak to be an argument. He knew Bucky still wasn’t interested in sex, but it became harder and harder to remind himself that once they finish their morning run. Exhaustion had the same effect on Bucky as intoxication would on other people, and most of the time, Bucky was a little tipsy once they arrive back in their apartment. Running always left his veins thrumming with residues of adrenaline from the serum, but he was far too tired to do anything other than shove Steve into the shower and kiss him until they were both worked up. The kissing never led to anything beyond that, and even though it didn’t bother Steve much, he’d definitely appreciate it if Bucky was more open about what he wanted.

They finally found a solution to Bucky’s adrenaline problem in the form of a gym owned by Sam’s colleague. It wasn’t a high-end gym by any means, and it was filled with standard equipment that can be found anywhere else. The only difference was that it was frequented by veterans because of how close it was to the VA’s office.

Steve knew the equipment probably couldn’t withstand the strength of a super soldier. That was the risk they had to take if it meant Bucky would be away from the prying eyes of the people who tried their best not to stare but couldn’t help but show their gratitude. Bucky had been self-conscious about his arm ever since he got discharged from the hospital, and Steve could tell he hated it whenever someone would approach him to thank him for his service.

At least being in an all-veteran gym didn’t make Bucky stand out. They were all dealing with the same problems, and they respected each other by staying as far away as they can. There were some situations when one of the vets recognized Steve and wanted to take a picture, but other than that, they were free to be anonymous in a crowd of weary soldiers.

Bucky mostly used the weights and the lat pull to build upper body strength while Steve sat in the lobby and waited for him to finish his routine. Occasionally, he would join Bucky, but he would prefer to use the gym at the Avengers Tower to avoid the possibility of breaking anything.

Bucky was always twice as tired by the time they returned to their apartment at noon, and there weren’t any more blue balls incidents in the shower for the next month.

That was until Steve noticed how defined Bucky’s muscles had gotten from the amount of exercise.

He took cold showers more often after making that observation.

* * *

 

Steve woke up one morning to Bucky staring intently at him. He was sitting up against the pillows next to his head with the blankets pooled around his waist and the sunlight bathing him in gold. It was a beautiful sight to wake up to, and Steve was sure that he had a sappy smile on his face as he propped himself up to greet Bucky with a kiss. “Hey there,” he said once he pulled away.

Bucky tilted his chin forward to press another kiss to his lips, but it was a lot less enthusiastic than Steve had expected. “Hey yourself,” he echoed in an equally subdued tone. He had a look in his eyes that was neither warm nor distant, and for a moment Steve worried that he was on the verge of dissociation.

He offered Bucky another soft smile before turning towards the nightstand to check the time. It was already seven—well past the hour they were supposed to wake up for their morning run, but telling from the way Bucky was sitting sullenly beside him, it was obvious he didn’t plan on leaving the bed any time soon.

“You wanna go running?” he asked anyway for the sake of creating a semblance of normalcy.

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, you go. I don’t feel up for it.”

“How ‘bout support group?”

Another shake. “Maybe tomorrow.”                             

“Alright,” Steve said and clambered out of the bed, but instead of going into the bathroom to get ready for his jog, he went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast instead.  He’d keep his distance if that was what Bucky wanted, but there was no way he was going to leave him alone in their apartment while he was dissociating.

However, Bucky didn’t seem to mind his company because he padded out of the bedroom when Steve lighted the stove and sidled over to help. As Steve continued to observe him throughout the morning, he realized Bucky looked more like a person trying to solve a complex math equation rather than someone who was about to lose touch of reality. It wasn’t as disconcerting as he initially thought it would be, but nonetheless, it made him wonder why Bucky was acting so strangely.

“What’s the matter, Buck?” Steve asked while they were cleaning up after breakfast.

Bucky startled from where he was wiping the countertops and turned towards him with a raised brow. “Nothing?”

“You’re brooding,” Steve pointed out wryly before he carried on loading the plates into the dishwasher. He heard Bucky sigh, and the sound was immediately followed by the squelch of a dishtowel being tossed into the sink. Steve mistook it as a sign of annoyance and was about to apologize when Bucky suddenly came up behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Steve prodded with the lack of anything else to say. All the blood in his head was rapidly rushing down south, and if they don’t end this conversation sooner, it would probably lead to something Bucky wasn’t ready for.

Bucky seemed to have other plans in mind because he pulled Steve flush against him and tucked his chin over his shoulder. “I’m just thinking about something a person in my support group told me yesterday.”

“Oh?” Steve managed to say through the lump in his throat. “Is it a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Depends,” Bucky replied, his mouth only inches away from Steve’s ear.

The graze of Bucky’s lips sent a shiver down his spine, and it settled uncomfortably with the heat that was already beginning to pool in his crotch. Steve decided it was high time to step away before things could get out of hand, but then Bucky was kissing him, slow and chaste— made sweeter by the longing they both felt after spending months tiptoeing around each other. It was awkward at first because of their position, but Bucky eventually turned him around and deepened the kiss until they were both shaking with pleasure.

“If you really want to know,” Bucky said once they parted for air. “The person I mentioned is Sam, and he told us _both_ to get our heads out of our asses.”

“Well,” Steve began, but the rest of the words trailed off into a startled gasp when Bucky’s hand suddenly found his burgeoning erection. Instinctively, he reached down to stop him, but instead of pushing him away, Steve laid his own hand over Bucky’s like a promise for more. “Are you sure about this?”

Bucky didn’t appear to be hurt by the interruption, although it was hard to read his thoughts when his eyes were almost obscured by his dilated pupils. “I’ve wanted this since I came back. I just didn’t think you’d be interested because of…” He paused to glance at the stump of his left arm and took a deep breath like he was bracing for a blow. His hand was slowly sliding away from Steve’s leg, but Steve tightened his grip and pulled Bucky’s palm over his heart instead.

“I can’t believe you thought that.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, sounding a little too earnest for his liking. “Sam told me it was stupid.”

“It is,” Steve agreed, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and you’ve said a lot of stupid things.”

“I know.”

“Oh Bucky,” Steve sighed and used his free hand to tilt Bucky’s face towards him before continuing. “It’s your dick I care about, not your arm.”

That managed to elicit a loud snort from Bucky, but he pursed his lips to keep the laughter from bubbling up and fixed Steve with the same glare Natasha used to scare someone into spilling their secrets. “You know I love you, but sometimes I really don’t.”

“Really?” Steve prodded on as he gently pushed Bucky against the nearest wall and wedged a knee between his thighs. “I think your dick says otherwise.”

“This isn’t love.” Bucky thrust his hips into Steve and sent him stumbling back a few steps in the process. “This is called a one-night stand.”

“I don’t think you understand the concept of a one-night stand since you’ve been seeing me for two years,” Steve pointed out wryly. His hands moved to settle around Bucky’s waist like he was allowing him to take the lead in a dance.

“First of all,” Bucky said, jabbing his finger into Steve’s chest and pushing him back until he was the one who was crowded against the center island. “It’s not two years because it took you over six months to admit that you like me. Second of all, could you please stop talking about dicks and just fuck me already.”

“If you say so.” Without another warning, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and picked him up bridal style. Bucky let out a yelp and immediately demanded to be put down, so Steve hefted him onto the countertop instead and gently guided his legs apart as he moved to settle between them.

“Yes please,” Bucky gasped and slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders to pull him closer. Steve took this as his cue to grind down on him, and was rewarded a strangled groan as Bucky arched off the counter to match his rhythm.

“Faster,” Bucky said, although there wasn’t much strength behind the demand because of how slurred his tone was. Steve adjusted his position and did as he was told, and soon, Bucky was incapable of forming any words that didn’t resemble a moan.

Their clothes were getting a little too tight, and they should probably lose a few layers before they make a mess of themselves. Bucky seemed to have the same idea because he started tugging at Steve’s shirt the moment they paused to take a breath.

“Hurry up.” Bucky voice was almost a growl now, and hearing it sent a jolt down Steve’s crotch that threatened to buckle his knees. Steve debated on whether or not he should give Bucky what he wanted, but as usual, he decided to tease the hell out of him first. “What if I don’t?” he countered in an equally low tone and was pleased to see Bucky’s throat bob as he tried to swallow down another moan.

What he did not expect, however, was for Bucky to reach out and tear his shirt off in one smooth motion.

“Ops,” he said, looking innocently nonplussed as he crumpled the tattered remains of the shirt and tossed it to the other side of the room.

Steve thought it was the hottest thing he had ever seen Bucky do, although he wasn’t about to admit that just yet. “That was my favorite shirt!” he gasped in feigned outrage and leaned over Bucky to pin him in place.

Bucky squirmed underneath him, but made no move to push him off. In fact, he seemed to want Steve even closer because he wound his legs around Steve’s thighs and placed his hand on the nape of Steve’s neck. “You own a dozen of those shirts,” Bucky said completely deadpan, and Steve couldn’t help the amused smile that etched onto his lips.

The smile eventually turned into a full-on smirk when he felt both their dicks throbbing against the fabric of their pants. “You’re gonna have to pay for the damage then,” Steve said, but Bucky was already far too blissed out to throw back a witty retort. So Steve kissed him again, this time, less gentle and more ravishing. Bucky seemed to come alive at every push, and he met Steve’s kisses with the same amount of fiery passion as the first night they spent together. They were both getting considerably wetter at every passing moment, so Steve took the opportunity to gather Bucky in his arms and carry him to their bedroom.

Bucky didn’t complain much this time, but Steve suspected it was largely due to the fact that his mouth was occupied with something else.

 It was a miracle that they even made it to the bedroom with Bucky practically groping every part of Steve that was within reach while simultaneously trying to slide his sweatpants down his waist. It was so easy to forget that Bucky had only one arm, because by the time they both collapsed onto the bed, Steve’s pants were already halfway down his thighs, and his hair looked like it had been well-lived in by rats.

 Steve was also sure that he had deposited Bucky on the bed first before crawling on top of him, but he somehow ended up reclined against the pillows with Bucky straddling his hips. He was rock-hard either way, and it only got worse when Bucky made a show of shimmying out of his boxers. He had to prop himself up with his arm while he was doing it, so he made the act seem more like lap dance than anything else. Once his cock was finally freed from the fabric, he bent down and stripped Steve’s boxers off with his teeth.

Steve let out a whine as the combination of arousal and the cold morning air sent another jolt into his dick. Bucky’s hand closed around it in a heartbeat, and he grinned devilishly down at Steve as he ran his thumb over the slit. “I missed you so much.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re talking to me,” Steve managed to rasp. He didn’t even have to hold back his laughter anymore because it didn’t sound like anything more than breathy puffs.

“You’re right, I’m not,” Bucky replied and spread his legs wider so he could grind his dick against Steve’s. His arm was already to straining from supporting his own weight, and after a while, collapsed onto Steve’s chest with a frustrated grunt. “I didn’t feel like working out today, but I’m still toning my bicep just by fucking you.”

“Aw, poor baby,” Steve cooed and secured his hands around Bucky’s waist before flipping them over. Bucky landed dangerously close to the edge of the bed, but he didn’t seem to notice because he was gazing at Steve with probably the most lust-filled eyes that had ever been seen on a man. “You’re fucking beautiful, Stevie.”

“You are too, Buck,” Steve said, planting another sweet kiss on Bucky’s lips before leaning towards the nightstand. He retrieved a bottle of lube from the top drawer, already half-empty from the nights he’d spent jerking off to the sound of Bucky’s voice. He thought of telling Bucky that to rile him up a bit, but decided against it when he saw his face. Bucky’s eyes were half-lidded, and his mouth was rose-red and swollen with kisses. He was panting heavily against the pillows, his body language open, and more relaxed than Steve had ever seen. He didn’t plan to stop staring unless Bucky called him out for being a sap again, but then his dick suddenly gave an almighty twitch and reminded him of their present situation.

“Ready?” Steve asked as he took a hold of Bucky’s legs and hitched them higher around his waist. Bucky opened his eyes to glare at him like it was the most absurd question he had ever heard, which was probably true given that they were both on the verge of an orgasm.

“I want you inside me,” Bucky said, his tone pleading as he tightened his thighs around Steve’s hips and pulled him impossibly closer. Steve took the cue to slick his finger, and then watched Bucky’s face carefully for any signs of distress before slipping it into his hole.

Bucky took the first one easily, but a particularly sharp gasp escaped his lips when Steve inserted another finger, and he was almost sobbing by the time he was penetrated by the third. Steve panicked and tried to pull away, but Bucky’s hand latched onto his wrist to stop him.

“If you take that out, your dick better replace it,” Bucky warned in a low growl, and Steve paused to admire how he was still capable of so much sass with three fingers buried in his asshole.

“Okay, your highness,” Steve teased and hitched Bucky’s legs onto his shoulders to make more room to slide his cock inside him.

Bucky came screaming Steve’s name at the top of his lungs, and Steve followed shortly after. He collapsed into a panting heap when the residues of the orgasm finally faded, and Bucky instinctively turned towards him so that they were laying side-by-side like half crescent moons. They weren’t exactly utterly spent because they both had the serum in their system, but they were satisfied enough to leave things as they were.

“Oh my god,” Bucky said once he got his breathing under control. “We just had day sex. I never thought we’d reach the peak of unemployment this early.”

“Technically, I’m supposed to be retired,” Steve informed him happily—which made Bucky roll his eyes at him and attempt to shove him away.

“Can you not make old man jokes after we just had sex?”

“Hey, you did it the last time.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the grandpa of this relationship, so I have the right to bring it up whenever I want.”

It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes this time, but he decided to indulge Bucky before bickering became their pillow talk. “Alright, I won’t bring it up again,” he promised, and dragged Bucky back towards him by the waist. Bucky hummed contentedly and curled up against Stev's chest as he began to drift off.

Steve’s eyelids were drooping as well, but he kept himself awake for a few moments longer to relish the domesticity of their situation. SHIELD was gone, and Bucky would most likely be honorably discharged from the army because of his injury. There was nothing keeping them from living a normal life, and just this once, Steve allowed himself to entertain the possibility of giving up the mantle of Captain America for good.

Of course, that was when his SHIELD-issued burner phone came to life on his nightstand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to anyone who's still out there! It's been a while since my last update, so my apologies for that. Apparently, being in school means I'm not allowed to have any hobbies because after writing two extensive research papers, there's still a fuckton of paperwork coming up ahead.Let's be real, I'm probably not gonna be able to update until summer break starts, but I hope this chapter would be able to compensate for the next few months.
> 
> Thank you to the loyal readers who have made it this far, and if you're new here, then you're gonna be in for a long ride. Your comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. Feel free to drop by and say hi on [Tumblr](http://silvials.tumblr.com/). I'm currently freaking out over the new Infinity War trailer, and I need someone to cry with me.


	11. He'd trade his guns for love, but he's caught in the crossfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from a song called Crossfire by Stephen

The burner phone had been sitting in a drawer collecting cobwebs ever since SHIELD fell, so hearing it ring made Steve feel a sense of wariness. Only three people knew the number to the burner, and two of them were currently on the run from the government. There was a small chance that it was Natasha calling to give them a head’s up about dropping by to visit, but he couldn’t risk declining the call and having Fury show up at his doorstep unannounced the next day. The living room wall was still riddled with bullet holes from his last visit for Christ’s sake.

The incessant ringing was starting to pull Bucky out of his light slumber, but Steve ran a hand through his hair and urged him to go back to sleep before dragging himself out of the covers. He then snatched the phone from the nightstand and flipped it open with such ferocity; he was surprised it didn’t snap in half.

“What is it?” he asked without bothering to add a greeting. Somewhere in Brooklyn, Sarah Rogers was probably rolling in her grave, but Steve couldn’t care less about his manners when someone was rudely interrupting his post-sex haze.

“It’s nice to hear from you too, Cap,” Maria Hill answered in an equally clipped tone. Hearing that made Steve feel guilty for snapping at her, but the guilt didn’t exactly do much to assuage his annoyance towards the whole situation.

“Sorry,” Steve muttered and repeated the earlier inquiry in a more mellow tone. At least Hill took it as a cue to cut to the chase.

“Fury sent over some intel last night,” she began without any further formalities. “Apparently, there are multiple Hydra facilities strewn across Europe. Most of them have been abandoned ever since Project Insight, but Fury found an active base in Germany disguised as a nuclear power plant.”

“Let me guess,” Steve interjected, already knowing where the conversation was heading. “He wants me to clean it up.”

“No, he wants a rescue mission,” Hill corrected. Steve couldn’t see her face, but he could tell that she had grown more earnest by brief silence that followed. “The whole base is heavily guarded, and there are reports of human experimentation occuring in the basement. You can’t do it alone; I’ve already contacted the others. Stark is expecting you to be at the Tower by tonight.”

“Alright,” Steve said resignedly. A part of him wanted to protest at the short notice of their mission, but he immediately felt selfish for considering the thought. The rest of the Avengers had their own lives too, and they were all willing to stop living it for a while to deal with a potential threat.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Steve told Hill and turned around to offer Bucky an apologetic smile. Bucky raised a brow at him as he propped himself up against the pillows, but he seemed to understand what was going on just by piecing together the fragments of their conversation. His answering smile was more than reassuring, but Steve still got off the phone call feeling emptier than he ever did before.

“Duty calls,” Bucky said sympathetically when Steve threw the burner back into the drawer and slammed it shut. He held out his arm towards him, and Steve gratefully crawled back under the duvets and into the warmth of his embrace.

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve said, although it was almost unintelligible given the way he was groaning.

Bucky appeared to be more amused by the situation than anything else, but he continued to pat Steve’s head comfortingly. “It’s okay, it’s not like we had any plans for today.”

“Yeah but…” Steve let out a huff of frustration and rolled onto his side to he could relish as much of Bucky’s warmth as possible. “I don’t feel like going in yet after everything that happened with Hydra.”

“I don’t think it’s fair either,” Bucky said, his expression growing dark all of a sudden. “You shouldn’t be the one to clean up the mess they made. “

Steve hummed in agreement and dwelled on the thought for a while until he realized that it wasn’t just Fury telling him to the dirty work. “Actually, it’s not just me. Hill said that she’d already contacted the others; I’m supposed to meet up with them at the Tower.”

“It must be serious then.”

“Yeah…human experimentation actually.”

“Jesus,” he felt Bucky wince against him. “That’s awful.”

“A wonderful way to start the week,” Steve returned dryly, and it was his turn to wince at the insensitivity of his own statement. “Shit, sorry. There are probably people trapped in a lab somewhere and here I am complaining about my job.”

“You’re allowed to, you know?” Bucky told him. “You’re human like everyone else.”

Steve was touched by how often Bucky reminded him of that, but only a handful of people saw him as anything other than an icon. The world usually needed Captain America more than Steve Rogers, and it was times like this that required him to lose a part of his humanity to get the mission done.

“What time are you leaving?” Bucky asked once the silence stretched on for a moment too long.

Steve leaned over the nightstand to check the time, then curled back into his prior position against Bucky’s chest. “Some time around five, maybe earlier if Stark decides to send a jet.”

“You better get going.” Bucky attempted to shove him off, but Steve caught his wrist in time and pinned it against the mattress. He swung his leg over Bucky’s hip to straddle him, and Bucky retaliated by grinding his crotch against Steve’s thigh.

“If you keep that up, I’ll miss my flight,” Steve grunted as he felt his dick start to twitch with interest.

“Get off me then,” Bucky said and carried on with his thrusting until Steve relented and reluctantly untangled himself from the rumpled sheets. He climbed out of bed after planting a parting kiss on Bucky’s lips and trudged towards the bathroom to shower.

“Stop pouting!” Bucky called after him, and Steve ducked back into the bedroom to give him what Sam referred to as the _Captain Golden Retriever_ face. It took a few moments for it to take effect, but eventually Bucky gave in. “Fine,” he sighed and made his way towards the bathroom as well. “I’ll join you.”

* * *

 

Clint had called ahead to tell him that he was coming to pick him up, but he failed to mention that he was flying a goddamn helicopter all the way to Washington. He was currently using their rooftop as a landing pad, and Steve was all but fuming when he rushed up the fire escape to meet him. He wasn’t exactly mad at Clint for causing a hell lot of commotion around his neighborhood; Clint just happened to be at the receiving end of his sullen mood because he still hadn’t made peace with the fact that Fury could send him on a mission whenever he pleased.

He _thought_ he had made peace with the notion while he was getting ready to leave, but then he took one look at their pigsty of an apartment, and suddenly it became very difficult for him to go through the door. Bucky had been better ever since he learned how to do everything one-handed, but he still had trouble with chores sometimes, and he couldn’t cook on his own without starting a kitchen fire. Leaving probably wasn’t the best for either of them—not for Bucky’s safety or for Steve’s sanity, and being on a different continent for an indefinite amount of time only made things worse. Steve thought of asking Sam to come over and keep Bucky company, but he quickly scrapped the idea when he saw a shadow of disappointment flit across Bucky’s face.

“I won’t burn the house down,” Bucky had assured as he nudged him towards the direction of the balcony. Steve thought of protesting, but before he could say anything else, Bucky had already slid the glass partition between them. He opened it again after a few seconds to take his face in his hand and kiss him goodbye, and then he motioned at the rusty stairway that led to the rooftop. “Go save the world.”

Steve was too nonplussed to croak out anything other than _stay safe_. It made Bucky laugh and lean in for another kiss. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

When Steve finally made it up the fire escape, he walked towards the helicopter with as much enthusiasm as a student on the way to their first day of college. He hoped that Clint wouldn’t notice the cloud of misery hanging over his head, but Clint had always been one of the more inquisitive members of the team next to Natasha.

Predictably, while Steve was buckling himself into the front seat, Clint turned towards him as asked if he was interrupting something good. He had that look on his face that suggested he knew exactly what he had interrupted, but Steve learned not to read into it too much because Natasha always used the same look as a defense mechanism whenever she didn’t know much about something.

“I had a friend staying over,” Steve explained, and his response was noncommittal enough to get Clint to lose interest in the topic. They took off in relative silence, but it wasn’t until the worse of the humming from the propellers subsided, when Clint decided to speak up again.

“So…does this friend happen to be Bucky?”

Steve tilted his head at him questioningly as he tried to remember when he had mentioned Bucky to Clint before. They hadn’t spoken to each other in a while, but Steve talked about Bucky so often that he could have accidently told the whole world about him without even realizing it.

“Yeah,” Steve replied and leaned back in his seat to make the conversation more casual. “Do you know him?”

“Not exactly, but Nat told me he filled in for me as the sniper while I was gone. She said he was pretty good, but I doubt he’s a better shot than me.” Clint didn’t sound pleased by the idea of being substituted, but there wasn’t exactly any heat behind his words apart from his usual good-natured teasing.

“He’s a _way_ better shot than you,” Steve argued just to see what kind of reaction he would get.

Clint seemed caught between outrage and disbelief, as if he didn’t know that Steve was capable of going that far. It was a pretty melodramatic look in general, and Clint only added to its effect by holding a hand over his heart. “You’ve known me longer. You’re supposed to side with me!”

“Actually, I’ve known him longer,” Steve supplied helpfully.

“That’s beside the point,” Clint said and threw his arms up in the air in frustration. It made Steve wonder how the helicopter was still in the air if he wasn't flying it. “The point is, he has a gun and I have a bow. He probably won’t do any better if he used my weapon of choice.”

“Oh, he might surprise you.”

“Why don’t you bring him over to the Tower so we can settle this once and for all,” Clint said, although his tone held a teasing lilt that made it sound more like a suggestion than a challenge.

Steve had thought about taking Bucky to the Tower and introducing him to everyone as soon as he came back from Afghanistan, but then Bucky lost touch of himself for a few months, and now Steve didn’t know when the right time was supposed to be anymore.

“He would like that,” Steve said, but the promise felt a little too empty for his liking. They both drifted into silence after that because neither of them were good at thinking of follow-ups.

“How are you, Clint?” Steve asked once he got tired of staring out the window. Washington was nothing more than a sea of fog and city lights, and the sight only served as a bitter reminder of how far away from home he was going to be for the next few days.

Clint canted his head towards him in a way that he normally did when he was too lazy to turn around. He was sporting a bandage on the bridge of his nose, and one of his eyes was darker than the other, but aside from that, he seemed fine.

“I didn’t get shot,” Clint said proudly, like he was bragging about reaching a milestone, but considering his reputation of being a walking personification of the word _human disaster_ , it probably was. “The mission, on the other hand, was a little more complicated.”

“Was it SHIELD or Hydra?” Steve asked.

“A little bit of both actually,” Clint replied. “You see, Pierce sent me after this guy who’s supposedly another SHIELD agent who went rogue. Well, it turns out this guy was a neo-Nazi scientist who somehow _knew_ that Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD, and he went ahead and offered his services to them. One year later, he steals all their secrets and decides to build a secret underground lab of his own to make these weird enhancement drugs. Me and Nat took care of him before he could test it on anyone, so yeah I don’t really feel too bad about that.”

“Sorry I wasn’t much help,” Steve said instinctively, even though the apology felt inadequate.

“Nah,” Clint reached over to grab his shoulder reassuringly. “You helped kick enough Hydra asses back in the war to last a lifetime.”

Steve appreciated the consolation, but he wished everyone would stop making exceptions for him simply because he was from another century. Bucky never treated him differently; he hardly ever brought up the past unless they were recalling a fond memory.

Thinking of him made Steve miss him even more, and they’ve only been apart from each other for a few minutes.

* * *

 

When they arrived at the Tower, JARVIS directed them into a room that looked like something out of a science fiction novel. It was a conference room not unlike the one that used to be in the Triskeleton, but this one consisted of a long mahogany table that was surrounded by leather swivel chairs. Holographic screens served as the walls that encompassed the space, and at the end of the table was a row of floor to ceiling windows. It wasn’t exactly the best place to hold their debriefing, but considering that the Avengers Tower was the tallest building in the city, they would have enough privacy even if the whole floor was made of glass.

The lack of walls made it easy for Tony to spot them, and he strode across the room to meet them even before they fully stepped out of the elevator.

“What took you guys so long?” Tony asked after shaking their hands in greeting.

“I was in the middle of something,” Steve said just as Clint grunted out the word “traffic” _._

Natasha snorted from her seat, while Tony looked between them like he couldn’t decide which of their responses he should address first.

In the end, he opted to narrow his eyes suspiciously at Clint. “I thought you took the chopper.”

Clint flopped onto the empty chair at the end of the table and shrugged. “Bird migration could be a bitch.”

It was hard to tell whether he was being sarcastic or not with the deadpan expression on his face, and Tony spent a few more seconds staring at him before clearing his throat loudly. “Alright, settle down, kids.”

Steve sat down next to Natasha and took the time to survey everyone in the room. The last time they worked together like this, the Chitauri were wrecking havoc in New York. Now, they’ve assembled almost everyone on the original team save for Thor, and it made Steve worry what kind of mission their presence entailed.

“So,” Natasha’s voice broke him out of his trance, and he turned around to find her smirking at him. “I’m guessing James is back.”

Steve was beyond asking her how she found out, so he just nodded.

“How long?” She asked.

“Since after we destroyed the Hellicarriers. He’s been honorably discharged.”

“Oh?” Natasha clearly wanted to ask more, but Tony interrupted before she could.

“As you’ve probably heard from Hill, we’re dealing with another potential Hydra situation here,” Tony informed them and paused to pull up a map of Germany onto the screen. He tapped on the area that was supposed to be their target, and the map dissolved into an aerial shot of the compound. “Some of those lucky bastards were holing away in Europe when Project Insight happened, and now they’re working with an American terrorist group called AIM—whatever the hell that means, in their not-so-secret base. Our concern is to find out what their up to, rescue possible human experiments, and blow the place to hell. Nothing you guys have never done before, right?” He motioned his head towards Steve, Clint, and Natasha.

“There must be more to that if all of us are involved,” Steve pointed out. He’d worked for Fury long enough to know that he could’ve given them each an individual assignment and sent them all running into the same base.

“Do you have something against a team reunion, Cap?” Tony asked and clutched at his heart in feigned hurt.

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but then the elevator opened and Maria Hill came strolling in. “Actually, there is,” she said, as if she was waiting for the right moment to make an entrance. She nudged Tony away when he tried to acknowledge it and took over at the control panel. She pulled up several files onto the screen, all of which were itineraries written in different languages. “It was recently discovered that a few things were taken out of the Triskeleton’s weapons vault and transported to several locations in Europe. All of these shipments were authorized by Alexander Pierce, so we assume it was all done for the interest of Hydra. The most valuable thing that’s missing so far is this.” She showed them a picture of a scythe-like staff with an alluring blue glow that Steve had become all too familiar with.

“I thought Thor took that back to Asgard with him?” Bruce asked, sounding mildly outraged. Everything about Bruce was mild that it was hard to believe he was the Hulk.

“SHIELD wanted it as evidence for the World Security Council, but it’s become clear that they had ulterior motives when they first suggested that,” Hill said, pursing her lips as if she was silently berating everyone at SHIELD for failing to notice. “Fury suspects that their keeping it in one of their facilities, but we’re starting with the one in Germany because it has the tightest security.”

It took them several moments to let the information sink in, and then they were all looking at Steve.

“What’s the plan, Capsicle?” Tony asked.

“The usual,” Steve replied, leaning forward absently as he went over the plan in his head. “We make a grand entrance and draw out as much guards as we can. Clint stays as the sniper once we’ve skimmed their numbers, while Nat, Tony and me will head for the base. Tony, you’re in charge of finding the scepter. Me and Natasha will take care of the rest. Doctor Banner, stand by just in case things get out of hand.”

“Wait, standby as the other guy or as a medic?” Banner asked, but he seemed visibly relieved that he wasn’t actively involved in the mission nonetheless.

“Maybe both?” Steve’s response was tinged with a hint of uncertainty. He vaguely recalled Banner telling Tony that he was _not that kind of doctor_ , but he suspected Banner was just offering alternatives to turning into the Hulk—which was understandable, but the Hulk would be more useful to them if they ever get caught in a tight spot.

“Okay, I can do both,” Banner repeated like he was giving himself a pep talk. “I can definitely do both…but not at the same time though.”

“It’s fine,” Steve told him before pushing his chair back. “If there are no other questions, suit up.”

* * *

 

The compound was just as heavily guarded as Fury had reported it to be, and it was also equipped with an arsenal of high-end technology that detected their approach from miles away. Missiles barreled towards them the moment they had the base in sight, and even though Clint managed to maneuver the Quinjet away from the assault, one missile grazed the left wing and nearly knocked them out of the sky. In the end, they decided to send Stark to the compound first to divert the attention and give Clint a chance to land the Quinjet.

“Oh, so you wanna use me as bait now?” Tony complained, but he fired up his repulsers anyway and punched the button that opened the drop hatch. “FYI, if anyone shoots at me while I’m baiting, I’m shooting back.”

By the time Steve and the others arrived on the site, most of the compound’s exterior was already blown to bits. Stark had done one hell of a good job luring out the guards; they were standing at the entrance in some sort scattered formation that could neither overpower their opponents nor protect their base. Steve could immediately tell that they were inexperienced, and they made quick work of taking them out and breaking into the compound. 

There were more guards stationed outside the various rooms of the compound, but they were armed with nothing more than a handgun and a grenade. It was easy enough to get past them and even easier to obtain the access codes to the rooms they had been guarding. However, once they’ve finished searching everything behind every locked door, it all started to feel more like a trap.

They weren’t expecting to find the scepter, but they weren’t expecting to find an empty base either. Every room they checked was abandoned, and when Natasha tapped into one of the computers, the history showed that all the databanks had been wiped. The wiping could be a part of a contingency protocol, but that didn’t explain why Hydra had so many guards defending what was essentially a half-constructed power plant.

Tony surmised that the place was rigged to blow, but instead of retreating, he decided to delve deeper into the compound to find the bomb and diffuse it. Steve followed after him in search for possible prisoners while Natasha stayed in the control room and attempted to recover the lost data.

Steve’s search was unsuccessful—at least until he arrived at the second sublevel. Most of the rooms were still abandoned, but they weren’t completely bare like the ones on the floor above him. Steve could immediately tell they were prison cells just by looking at the metal-framed beds with restraints attached to the headboard. He wasn’t sure of whether to feel relieved or horrified when he didn’t find anyone inside. He told himself not to think too much about it, but he couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the prisoners that were kept there. Did they end up working for Hydra? Or did Hydra’s experiments end up killing them?

Steve continued down the length of the hallway and found another row of cells around the corner. A single fluorescent light flickered on the ceiling, dousing the foyer in both shadow and light. Steve’s enhanced eyesight was able to pierce through the darkness, but there weren’t any distinct shapes huddled in the cells and the only sign of life left was the coppery scent of blood wafting from the drains.

“Hello?” Steve called out on a whim, but only the echo of his own voice answered him. He gave it a few moments before trying again, but this time another voice joined in, startling him out of his wits.

Steve spun around and prepared to throw his shield at the oncoming attacker, but then he realized it was only Tony’s voice crackling through the comms. “Jesus, Tony.”

“Who’re you talking to?” Tony asked, but he plowed on without waiting for an answer. “I need an update on yours and Romanov’s location.”

“On my way out,” Natasha said. The frustration in her voice was palpable even through the comms, and Steve could only guess that she wasn’t able to retrieve anything useful from the databanks.

“I’m in the second sublevel,” he told Stark as he began to make his way out of the labyrinthine hallways. “Did you find a bomb?”

“Yep,” Stark confirmed, although he seemed entirely too calm about the situation.

“Can you deactivate it?” Steve pressed on and tried not to snort at Tony’s answering huff. He could almost see Stark puffing his chest out as he spoke.

“Of course I can, but here’s the thing. This tech takes a while to detonate, and there’s about seven minutes left on the clock. It’s more than enough time for us to get out of here, and since we were planning to blow this place to hell anyway, why not use their own weapon against them?”

Steve nodded contemplatively then realized that Tony couldn’t see him. “Okay, but what about the magnitude of the explosion?”

“We’re in a pretty remote area anyway, but I have time to set up those force fields we brought. What do you say, Cap?”

“Do it,” Steve said, no longer caring if he sounded too eager. The steel walls and the empty cells were starting to make him frantic, and he’d gladly burn the place to the ground in whatever method that was offered to him.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Stark informed him, thankfully not acknowledging his sudden enthusiasm for explosions. “Oh yeah, by the way, where are you?”

“I’m heading up,” Steve said, even though he wasn’t quite sure which way was up. The layout of the compound was a lot more complicated than it appeared to be in the aerial shot Fury sent to them, and it was almost impossible to navigate through the halls without a map. Steve’s photographic memory usually allowed him to find his way back without the assistance of a map, but during his process of searching for prisoners, he had forgotten to take note of how many turns he made.  It was hard to tell whether he was heading out or heading deeper because the lack of windows made the air stale no matter which way he went. He recalled feeling the same way in Azzano, when he was desperately searching the prison camp for any more survivors while the world erupted into flames and fell apart around him. He wasn’t looking forward to experiencing that again.

“Tony,” Steve called into the comms and barely managed to hold back a string of curses when he ran into another dead end. “Can you tell me if I’m heading the right way?”

“Heading the right—wait, are you lost?” Stark yelled, as if it wasn’t obvious enough. It set Steve’s nerves alight with anxiety, and he was just about to snap at Tony when JARVIS’ pleasant voice suddenly filtered through the comms.

_“Captain Rogers, head straight down the hallway and take one left then a right. You will find a door that leads to a stairwell. Take the same route once you’ve reached the first level and then you will find the exit straight ahead.”_

“Thanks JARVIS,” Steve grunted as he braced his shield in front of him and took off running. “How much time have I got?”

_“Under three minutes, sir.”_

“Can you make it, Cap?” Tony asked a minute later. “If not, I’m gonna have to head back down—”

“I can do it,” Steve insisted, rushing up the steps that led to the first level and barreling through every wall in his path. “I’ve been through worse.”

He burst out of the compound with a minute left on the clock, and the Quinjet took off in the last thirty seconds of the countdown. The aftershocks of the explosion would have reached them if it wasn’t for the force fields that Stark had set up, and the captured Hydra agents could only watch in disappointment as their base was consumed in a dome of flames.

“What the hell was that, Cap?” Tony asked, his expression a mix of incredulity and amusement as he paced back and forth on the walkway in front of Steve. “What happened to the built-in GPS in your brain?”

“I got distracted,” Steve grumbled and slumped back in his seat, a sense of weariness seeping into his mind as he thought back of what he saw at the compound. “The whole base was like the Hydra prison camp I found back in the war. There were rooms down in the basement that looked like standard jail cells, except the beds had restraints on them and there were torture devices built into the walls. All of them were empty, but some had fresh blood stains on the floor.”

His palms stung the more he spoke, as if each word inflicted a wound on his hands. He didn’t realize he had been clenching his fists so tight until Natasha sat beside him and gently pried his fingers apart. “I’m sure these guys have a lot of explaining to do,” she said with a pointed glare at the Hydra agents restrained at the back of the Quinjet, “but let’s save that for the report.” She directed her glare at Tony this time.

“Alright, fine.” Tony raised his arms in mock surrender and slowly backed away until he was out of Natasha’s line of sight. “We’ll save all the kinky stories for Nick then. I bet he’d love that.”

Steve snorted, his despondency momentarily forgotten, and Natasha took the opportunity to bump her shoulder against his. “As I was saying before, how’s James?” she leaned in conspiratorially as she spoke, but her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. Steve supposed it was her way of telling him it was time to introduce Bucky to their teammates.  

“He’s still his usual asshole self,” Steve replied. He was aiming for a casual tone, but judging from the smirk on Natasha’s lips, he knew he had somehow made the statement sound sappy instead.

“Well, where has he been and why haven’t we met him yet?” Tony demanded, although it was more petulant than anything else.

“He hasn’t been himself lately,” Steve said, his shoulders deflating a little as the memories from the past few months came crashing back in waves. “He um…lost his arm to an IED.”

Natasha opened her mouth, then closed it again with a lack of anything to say. It was the first time Steve saw her look this surprised, but Tony on the other hand, looked like a child who had been told that Christmas was coming early. Steve raised a brow at him, but before he could acknowledge it, Natasha spoke up again.

“Is he okay now?”

“He’s on his way there.” It felt like an understatement, but there was no other way Steve could describe Bucky’s progress without going off about it for the next hour.

“He should come by the tower,” Tony suggested, and Clint turned around from the cockpit to mouth the words _‘I’m gonna kick his ass.’_

“Anyway,” Tony went on as Steve leaned over his shoulder to roll his eyes at Clint. “Me and Bruce have been interested in working with prosthetics lately, isn’t that right, Bruce?” He gave the man in question a little nudge, and Bruce startled from where he was hunched over a tablet.

“Hm? Prosthetics?” It took Bruce a while to catch up on what they had been talking about, but once he did, his eyes practically lit up with interest. “Oh yeah, we met this Doctor called Helen Cho who discovered a way to develop synthetic skin. She was telling us that she could, hypothetically, re-grow a limb, but she’s gonna need a robotic skeletal structure as a support for the skin.”

“Which is what we’ve been working on—or at least we’ve been putting it off until we find someone to test it on. “ Tony stopped to stare at Steve expectantly before he resumed his pacing. “We were originally planning to make a prosthetic leg, but we could do an arm.”

“That’s…” Steve began and shook his head as if the motion would help clear his thoughts. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was Tony’s pacing that made him feel dizzy or the sheer surreality of what he was hearing. “Thank you, Tony. I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Great.” Tony squirmed like he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being thanked, but he reached out to pat Steve on the shoulder anyway. “Feel free to drop by the Tower anytime, you know, unless we find any more Hydra bases to blow up.”

* * *

 

Steve agreed to stop at the Tower to have drinks with the team, but he declined Tony’s invitation to stay over for a movie night and took the next flight straight back to D.C. The city was already asleep by the time Steve arrived, but instead of walking into a dimmed out apartment, he was greeted by the warm glow of candlelight and the scent of rosemary chicken wafting in the air.

“Buck?” Steve called as he took in the scene before him with a growing sense of amusement. Bucky had somehow arranged their dining room to look exactly like the steakhouse they had gone to when they confessed their feelings for each other. The table was pushed all the way across the room so it was situated next to the glass windows, and the set-up was complete with a white cloth, flowers, and a bottle of red wine. It was the cheesiest thing that Steve had ever seen, and he didn’t know whether to feel touched at Bucky’s effort or worried for the important date that he was probably forgetting.

Just then, Bucky emerged out of the bedroom wearing a white button-down shirt that had only been buttoned on the places that made his muscles more prominent and exposed from his collarbone all the way up to his neck. The sight made Steve drool a little, but instead of moving in for a kiss, he shuffled awkwardly in his place and tried not to appear too guilty. “What’s all this? Did I forget our anniversary?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Steve I have no idea when our anniversary even is. I just thought I’d do something nice for you while you were away.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“And I was fucking bored,” Bucky added, cutting off any further protest.

Steve smiled and gave Bucky a deliberately slow once-over before dragging him in for a kiss. “Did you cook all this?” he asked once they broke apart for air, but he kept his lips close enough for Bucky to feel the heat of his breath against his neck.

“Nah, these are take out,” Bucky said, his voice strained like he was trying to suppress a moan. “I promised you wouldn’t burn the house down, didn’t I?”

Steve hummed noncommittally as his mouth roamed from Bucky’s neck down to his exposed collarbone.

“Hey.” Bucky twisted out of his arms and backed away until he was halfway across the living room. “Stop seducing me, I’m starving!”

“Don’t tempt me like this then,” Steve said and marched up to him to tug his shirt closed.

Bucky shoved him away playfully, but grudgingly allowed him to do the rest of the buttons. “You can’t expect me to button _all of that_ with one arm.”

“I’ve seen you do more with one arm,” Steve argued half-heartedly, but instead of rising to the bait, Bucky pushed him the rest of the way across the room and sat him down at the table. He settled opposite of Steve and popped open a bottle of wine that had been sitting around in the cupboards for more than a year. Looking at the label made Steve realize that it was Tony’s housewarming gift to him, and he suddenly remembered what he and Tony had talked about during their ride back from the mission.

“Move in with me,” Steve blurted and immediately berated himself for it. It wasn’t something he planned on bringing up until a later date, but he _had_ thought of it before, and it seemed like his brain went ahead to sort out his priorities for him.

“Where’d this come from?” Bucky asked, a teasing glint playing across his eyes. The look never failed to fill Steve with warmth, but this time it only succeeded in setting him on the edge.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Steve explained while picking at his food nervously. “I was planning on asking you on a date first, but then the mission happened, and I kind of forgot about it until now.”

Bucky continued to smile at him, but said nothing, and so Steve rambled on.

“I guess this is also an ideal setting with the candlelight and all, but I wish I could’ve asked you in a more romantic situation—”

“Steve, I need to tell you something." Bucky took his hand in his own, but he spoke in such a serious tone that Steve suddenly became unsure of whether he should feel comforted or concerned by the gesture. He leaned in closer like he was about to impart a secret, and then:

“I thought we already moved in together three months ago.”

Steve simply stared at him for a few heartbeats before slapping his hand away. “You asshole, I thought you were gonna break up with me!”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed so hard; he almost fell out of his chair. “You…” he began, but the rest of the words were swallowed up by laughter.

Steve pouted at him continued to do so until Bucky’s laughter subsided.

“Okay, I’ll move in with you,” Bucky said indulgingly. “I’ll even goddamn marry you if you asked.”

“Did I just hear a proposal?” Steve asked with a wry smile.

Bucky blushed once he realized what he just said and ducked his head almost shyly. “Well, I guess that’s on the table too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve said and leaned over the table to kiss him as an added reassurance. “So where do you want to stay?”

“What do you mean?” Bucky pulled away to squint at him questioningly. “If you tell me you have other apartments around the world, I’m gonna flip this table.”

“No, I was talking about my place in New York,” Steve clarified. “Or another option could be the Stark Tower.”

“The Stark Tower?” Bucky parroted and braced his hand on the table like he was hell-bent on flipping it. “You can’t be serious.”

“Stark offered me a floor,” Steve said and tried to sound as nonchalant as Tony had when he first showed him around the apartment. “He’s been trying to convince me to move in ever since—plus he wants to meet you too.”

“Why?” Bucky demanded, going a little cross-eyed as he spoke. Steve thought it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen Bucky do.

“I told him about your situation,” Steve began and carefully watched Bucky’s face to gauge his reaction. The accident was still a touchy subject for both of them, but Bucky didn’t seem to mind him telling Tony about it. “It turns out he and Doctor Banner have been interested to work with prosthetics for a while, and they want to kick start their project by making you a robotic arm.”

“An arm?” Bucky repeated in disbelief. “A fully functioning robotic arm?”

Steve shrugged. “It _is_ Stark, so anything is possible.”

Bucky’s smile seemed to double in wattage the moment he finished processing the information. “We don’t have to talk about anything anymore, I’m in.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Infinity War killed me.
> 
> But as usual, I refuse to acknowledge the existence of canon, so I'll be fine.
> 
> I think.
> 
> Hey, at least it didn't take me six months to update this time. That's a big achievement considering how traumatized I was after watching Infinity War.
> 
> Your comments and kudos give me life guys :D Feel free to drop by and say hi on [Tumblr](http://silvials.tumblr.com/).


	12. And now it's time to build from the bottom of the pit right to the top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song It's Time by Imagine Dragons

_“Welcome back, Captain Rogers and greetings to you, Sergeant Barnes.”_

Bucky startled at JARVIS’ voice and looked around the room in search of the source. Once he realized that they were alone in the elevator, he directed his gaze to one of the security cameras and waved as if to return the greeting. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

 _“It’s nice to meet you too, Sergeant,”_ JARVIS replied, somehow managing to sound genuine despite his mechanical tone.

Bucky grinned to himself giddily like he had just been acknowledged by a celebrity, and then he turned towards Steve to glare at him accusingly. “You could’ve warned me that JARVIS was the entire building.”

“What _were_ you expecting?” Steve asked, although he felt more fond than defensive. Bucky around technology was like a cat that had been let loose into a new room. It was a completely different side of him that Steve had never seen before, and he felt his heart swell every time he watched Bucky try to resist the urge to poke at everything he encountered.

“I thought he’d be an android,” Bucky said, a furrow forming between his brows as he stared at the floor contemplatively, “or maybe a robot,” he added and quickly looked at the security camera apologetically. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re cool or anything.  You’re actually amazing.”

_“Thank you, Sergeant. You are just as charming as your profile describes you to be.”_

Bucky full-on blushed at JARVIS” compliment and Steve couldn’t help but wrap an arm around Bucky’s waist to pull him closer. “You’re adorable,” Steve told him after planting a kiss on his forehead, but Bucky only rolled his eyes at him.

“Sap,” he muttered, but the corners of his lips were twitching with the beginnings of a smile.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him and moved forward until Bucky was crowded against the elevator panel. “Am I supposed to be jealous about you blushing at JARVIS’ compliment instead of mine?”

“Hey, it’s not a compliment if it’s true,” Bucky said and raised his chin like he was daring Steve to argue. “And if an A.I. wants to make friends with me, you should definitely expect me to choose him over you.”

“But you said you love me,” Steve whined.

“Exactly,” Bucky raised a finger to stall Steve’s protest. “You don’t want to go back to the friendzone, do you?”

“No…unless you want to,” Steve said innocently as he thrust his crotch against Bucky’s hip to remind him of what he’d be missing out. Bucky rutted against him in retaliation, and Steve felt both their dicks twitch with burgeoning arousal.  He was just about to step away when the elevator doors suddenly slid open, and Tony called out before either of them had the chance to react.

“Finally!”

Steve sighed as he mentally prepared himself to answer an onslaught of questions about his sexuality and love life. He took Bucky’s hand and led him into the lab, but it turns out Tony was too preoccupied with tinkering the Iron Man armor that he didn’t even look up to see who had arrived.

“Sorry, he’s been cranky since yesterday,” Bruce said as he stepped out of his workstation. There was a steaming mug of coffee in his hands; a testament of how difficult it was to deal with Tony in the morning. His eyes briefly drifted towards their joined hands, but he smiled at them knowingly without making any jokes or asking intrusive questions. This was why Steve liked Bruce better.

Tony grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like _I’m not cranky_ under his breath, but Bruce ignored him in favor of holding out his hand to Bucky. “It’s nice to finally meet you, James.”

“Call me Bucky,” Bucky corrected automatically and flushed when he realized he left Bruce hanging. “It’d nice to meet you too.” He shook Bruce’s hand and smiled at him with barely contained glee. “Not everyone gets to see the Hulk in person—I mean the _person_ in person, not the _Hulk_ in person.”

“Not a lot of people are interested,” Bruce responded with a hint of self-depreciation, but he genuinely seemed surprised that Bucky was more interested in him instead of the Hulk.

“Well, I’m sick of dealing with superheroes,” Bucky said with a pointed glance at Steve. “It’s nice to be around someone normal for a change.”

Bruce made a vague gesture at Tony. “Believe me; I know what that feels like.”

“Hey!” Steve and Tony protested at the same time— with Steve’s reaction more exasperated and Tony’s more outraged. It made Bruce gasp in mock-disbelief.

“That’s the first time I heard them agree with each other,” he whispered to Bucky, but he made no effort to keep his voice down.

“Alright, I wanna know what all the fuss is about,” Tony chimed in as he hopped off his stool and dragged the gauntlet he had been fiddling with off the table.

Bucky’s eyes immediately zeroed in on it. “Wow.”

“I know right,” Tony said as he approached them. “It must be intimidating to see me in person too.”

“Nah, I was actually talking about your suit,” Bucky replied dryly without batting an eye. “You actually look taller when you’re in it.”

“If you look closely enough, you’ll see that he has platform heels on his thrusters,” Bruce supplied helpfully.

“They’re not heels, they’re protection for my repulsers to keep them from scraping the ground whenever I walk,” Tony explained indignantly. “Anyway, stop talking about me. Let’s focus on Sergeant Bucky Bear over here.”

Bucky grimaced at the nickname and shook his head as if that would help erase the words _Sergeant Bucky Bear_ from his memory. “I think I’d prefer to be called James now.”

"Too late,” Tony said flippantly and waved the gauntlet at him. “So I’m guessing you want one of these.”

Bucky shrugged. “No, not really,” he said as a matter-of-factly.

“What, why not?” Tony demanded.

“Believe it or not, Tony, there are people who don’t want to have an Iron Man gauntlet as a body part,” Steve pointed out. He was leaning against one of the pillars near the elevator, watching amusedly as Bucky and Tony traded quips.

“Steve’s just worried that I might trash his apartment.” Bucky reached over to pat him on the shoulder, but Steve playfully swatted him away before he could. “But he’s right. I don’t think having a gauntlet as an arm would be practical.”

“Okay, so just a regular arm then?” Tony asked.

“Yep”

“No repulsers?”

“No”

“Lasers?”

“Nope”

“Vibrator?” Tony side-eyed Steve like he expected him to be scandalized by the suggestion, but Steve actually thought it would a good feature.

“That sounds great,” Bucky said while unabashedly making eye contact with Steve. Bruce coughed when he accidentally inhaled a sip of his coffee in the process of snorting, but Tony didn’t seem to notice anything sexual about Bucky’s response.

“You’re a smart man,” Tony told him as he began to clear away the tools from his station. “I like you.”

“Sorry, but you’re not my type,” Bucky informed him regretfully, and laughed when Tony staggered back a few steps in shock.

It took under an hour for Tony to come up with a holographic scale model of Bucky’s prosthetic. He drew a few elements from the Iron Man in terms of functionality, but the rest of the designs were made according to Bucky’s preference.  There were no arc reactors or lasers or any other built-in accessory that Tony had insisted on adding, but Bucky _did_ decide to keep the vibrator function just to make the prosthetic more unique. He followed Tony’s recommendation of using metal plates instead of joints for added flexibility, and he also agreed to have the arm molded out of titanium alloy for enhanced strength. They ended up with something that was more of weapon than a prosthetic, but it could easily pass off as a regular arm once they put a layer of synthetic skin over it.

“Wait a minute,” Bruce said as he reviewed the blueprints. “How are we supposed to attach it?”

Tony stopped in the middle of his rant to Bucky and swiveled around in his chair to examine the screen. “Shit, I forgot about that part. Hey Bucky Bear, where does your arm end again?”

Bucky undid his knotted sleeve and folded it up to show him. The stump of his arm stopped short above his elbow, but the prosthetic projected on the screen went all the way up to his shoulder.

“That’s gonna be a problem,” Tony muttered to himself. “We can’t start from the elbow downwards without reinforcing his bones.”

“What if we made the upper arm into a sleeve?” Bruce suggested.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Tony agreed, but he didn’t look entirely satisfied with the idea. “There’s also a risk of the arm falling off every time you jostle it. We have to find a way to permanently attach it without modifying any bones.”

“What if…” Bruce began as he tapped on the screen and deconstructed the model of the prosthetic. “We can separate this into two pieces and make the upper arm into a socket that attaches to his shoulder.”

“That’s it!” Tony yelled in a spur of epiphany and nearly knocked over his chair as he stood up. “We need Cho’s team to surgically fuse it to his shoulder. She can modify the muscles and reconnect the nerves, but there might be a lot of scarring once everything is done.”

“He probably won’t get any scars,” Steve said, causing everyone to perk up with interest.

“You mean _you_ don’t?” Bucky clarified the same time as Tony asked: “Woah, what’s going on here?”

“Steve gave me his blood when they operated on my arm.” Bucky shrugged his left shoulder as if for emphasis. “I guess that also means I have the serum now.”

“Okay, that’s new, but it solves a lot of problems so thanks for not mentioning it earlier,” Tony said, but he steamrolled over Bucky before he could apologize. “Hey, are you free for the rest of the week? It’s not a date but I need you close by while we work on your prosthetic—okay, scratch that. You need to be here for the rest of the _month_ because we’re gonna a few tests and make modifications. Is that okay with you?”

“I don’t exactly have a job, so I’m free,” Bucky replied.

“Great, you’re staying at the Tower. I’ll have someone set up your floor.”

“Actually, I’m staying with, Steve,” Bucky said and blushed when Tony looked at him with a bewildered expression.

“Did I hear that right?” Tony asked.

“Yep,” Steve confirmed, a little surprised that it took him this long to notice.

“That means you’re staying on your floor,” Tony concluded. It was far from what Steve was trying to imply, but he wasn’t going to correct him. “Hey JARVIS, Capsicle is finally staying at the Tower. We have to throw a party to celebrate.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“We’re throwing a party,” Tony repeated, cutting off Steve’s protest. “You’re all invited.”

“Okay then,” Steve relented. “We’ll be there.”

“Alright” Tony clapped them both on the back and all but shoved them towards the direction of the elevator. “Now I need to plan a party _and_ work on Buckster’s new arm, so scram.”

* * *

 

“What do you think?” Steve asked, feeling a sense of déjà vu settle over him as he watched Bucky wander around the room. It felt too much like the first time he showed Bucky his apartment in Manhattan, but the only difference was that he was asking for the opinion of a life partner instead of a friend.

“It’s a lot fancier than I imagined,” Bucky replied after taking a few moments to survey the space. “It also seems a bit too…” he stared at the half-moon couch inquisitively as he fumbled for the right word.

“Excessive?” Steve supplied with a raised brow.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, the word almost drowned out by a sigh of relief. “I thought I was the only one who felt that.”

“I came from the Great Depression, remember?” Steve reminded him as he stepped forward and attempted to pull Bucky into an embrace.

“I know.” Bucky deftly maneuvered himself away from Steve’s arms and sauntered towards the centerpiece that caught his attention. “It seems like some people tend to forget that,” he said as he lifted the lid of the grand piano and played a short tune of the keys. “Seriously, what’s this thing for anyway?”

“Aesthetic? “ Steve guessed, because even Stark couldn’t justify why he had a grand piano in one of the guest rooms.

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “Stark has a very different definition of aesthetic then,” he said and ventured through the door that led to the bedroom. “What the—”

A wave of paranoid thoughts immediately filled his headspace, and Steve rushed into the room after him, only to stop short at the doorway to gawk at the monstrosity that was his bed. It was the same way he had left it the last time he had visited the Tower, except now the flag of the United States was draped over it like a goddamn blanket.

“Okay,” Bucky began in a tone that was halfway between horrified and amused. “I wasn’t planning to have sex in the Avengers Tower, but now we _really_ have to do it on _this_.”

“Should we send it back to Stark afterwards?” Steve suggested. He wasn’t overly fond of petty fights, but if Stark wanted to mess with him while he was staying the Tower, then Steve was going to mess with him right back.

Bucky spun around and squinted at him like he couldn’t quite decide what to do with his idea. “I don’t know how people still see you as an apple-pie sweetheart after all these years.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s a part of my reputation now.”

“It won’t be for long.” That was the only warning he got before Bucky tackled him onto the bed. He was still a little off balance because of his missing arm, but he managed to use the momentum to his advantage and collapsed on top of Steve. “I wonder how thin these walls are.”

“They’re probably soundproof.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Bucky rolled off him and curled up against his chest instead. “Let’s just do this.”

Steve hummed contentedly in response and wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulder so he was tucked snugly in his embrace. They might have gone on several spontaneous trips together and fought side-by-side on missions, but these idle moments were the ones that Steve appreciated the most. He never thought he’d get a chance to have a peaceful life after waking up in a different century, but Bucky was a constant reminder of the endless possibilities outside of being an Avenger—possibilities that no longer involved blood or war.

“So, what’s the final verdict?” Steve asked after a few moments of lying in silence.

Bucky propped himself onto his elbow and stared at Steve like he was searching for the answer in his expression. “Do _you_ want to stay here Steve?”

“No,” Steve admitted, ducking his head. “But I thought you might.”

Bucky’s face softened as he took Steve’s hand and began stroking the back of his palm comfortingly. “It’s about time you stopped making sacrifices for me.”

“If it means making you happy then I’ll never stop.”

“Why are you being extra cheesy today?”

“Says the person who set up a candlelight dinner for me the other night.”

Bucky glared at him and shoved a pillow over his face in attempt to smother him. “Don’t turn this into a competition.”

“You just don’t want to admit that you’re the bigger sap,” Steve fired back, grabbing Bucky’s wrist with one hand and tickling him on the stomach with the other. Enhanced senses meant that they were both more ticklish than usual, and it didn’t take long for Bucky to figure that out. Soon enough, he was using his toes to tickle Steve’s sides and they didn’t stop until they could do nothing more than giggle helplessly.

“I grew up in a flat the size of this entire bedroom,” Bucky said after the laughter died down and they’d both caught their breaths. “It takes some getting used to, and it’s kinda hard to deal with right now. I’d rather stay in a place that I’ve already grown used to—somewhere I’d miss if I was ever deployed to Afghanistan again.”

“My apartment then,” Steve concluded and Bucky smiled at him proudly like he wasn’t expecting him to take the hint.

“I don’t mind staying here though” Bucky said as he stretched out against the mattress. “I’m not a fan of most of the things in here, but that sixty-inch flat screen does look appealing.”

“We could use it to watch The Matrix,” Steve offered.

“You mean you haven’t seen it yet?”

Steve shook his head.

“You heathen!” Bucky gasped. He dragged Steve out of the bed and pushed him towards the living room, all while ranting about how he was missing out on a cinematic masterpiece.

* * *

 

After the credits of The Matrix rolled, they carried on with their marathon and watched some of the movies that were at the top of Bucky’s recommendation list. Most of them were classics that were heavy on sci-fi, and even though Steve had never been a fan of the genre back in the 40’s, he surprisingly didn’t mind. He always thought science fiction was an absurd form of escapism, but now that he’d been exposed to the modern world, he was suddenly interested to know how past filmmakers envisioned the future and how much of it actually came true.

They went through two more movies before deciding to sneak down to the communal floor to steal some snacks. The fridge on their floor had been fully stocked before they arrived, but it was mostly with frozen meat and fresh produce. Neither of them felt like making dinner from scratch, and most of the restaurants nearby always thought it was a prank whenever someone asked them to deliver to the Tower. It probably had something to do with Tony’s habit of ordering things while he was drunk, which was also the reason why the communal floor always had a stash of take-out food.

Steve could smell the Domino’s Pizza even before he stepped out of the elevator. He and Bucky were planning to smuggle a box or two up into their floor, but when they arrived in the kitchen, they discovered that there were other people who had the same idea.

“Hey boys,” Natasha greeted once they stepped through the door. She was perched on the countertops with two large pizza boxes on her lap, while Clint had his head stuck in the cupboards as he busied himself with raiding its contents.

“Hey, you’re back,” Steve returned belatedly, a little caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting to run into anyone at such a late hour, but then again, most of the occupants of the Tower were fueled by either coffee or adrenaline, so he didn’t know why he thought that in the first place.

“We never left,” Natasha said as she set the pizza boxes aside and slid off the counter. She extended her hand to Bucky. “It’s nice to see you, James.”

“It’s Bucky,” Bucky corrected her on instinct. He took Natasha’s hand and let out a surprised yelp when he was pulled into a hug instead.

“Nice try, but no,” Natasha said before pulling away. “It sounds like an out-grown nickname.”

“I have a brother named Barney,” Clint spoke once he was satisfied with his hoard. “She refuses to acknowledge his existence because she has no other name to call him.”

“It must be tough for him growing up,” Bucky said sympathetically, but Clint only shrugged.

“Eh, we were raised in a circus. _Barney_ was actually one of the more normal names in there.”

“Well, aren’t you guys something,” Bucky remarked, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “I’m guessing you must be Clint.”

“The one and only,” Clint said cockily, but the effect was ruined by his lopsided grin. “I’m also the best shot around,” he added after shaking Bucky’s hand.

Natasha coughed out something that suspiciously sounded like _not really_ while Bucky exchanged glances with Steve.

“I doubt that,” Bucky told him.

Clint whined and turned to glare at Steve accusingly. “This is your fault.”

“How is it my fault?” Steve asked, flashing him the signature church-choir boy smile that usually sent the media into a swooning frenzy.

“I don’t know!” Clint huffed, nearly knocking his stash of snacks onto the floor because of his wild gesticulation.  “You don’t think I’m a good sniper and now you’ve influenced Bucky to think the same.”

“I never said you were a bad sniper.”

“Yeah, but you don’t think I’m the best either,” Clint pointed out. There wasn’t any trace malice behind his words, but his indignation was palpable. “Hey, how ‘bout we settle this now? Stark has a shooting range down in the basement with an arsenal of all the weapons you could ever want.”

“Listen, I’d love to kick your ass but…” Bucky lifted his left shoulder to show him the stump.

“Oh shit,” Clint said once he realized what he was looking at. “Sorry, man. I just remembered you’re here because Stark is supposed to make a prosthetic for you. I sorta didn’t notice that you’re um…armless until now.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky assured. “Sometimes I don’t notice either.”

Normally, no one would dare to react to such somber statement, but since Clint was able to detect the light-hearted lilt in Bucky’s tone, he threw his head back laughing.

“I’m glad to know I’m not the only oblivious one,” Clint said with an exaggerated sigh of relief and turned his attention back to Steve and Bucky. “Hey, me and Nat were going to play Mario Kart, do you guys wanna join us?”

“Steve was frozen when video games were invented,” Natasha informed them and turned to Steve with a menacing grin. “You probably won’t enjoy it, but it’ll be fun to lap you just like the way you lap Sam during your morning runs.”

“We’ll see,” Steve responded with a grin of his own, but it was directed more towards Bucky than Natasha. He and Bucky always played Mario Kart whenever they ran out of things to watch or were just in the mood to compete with each other for fun. Steve had been predictably bad at it the first few times he played, but he kept getting better until he and Bucky were just taking turns knocking each other off the top spot. Currently, Bucky had more wins than he did, but Steve liked to think that he had enough experience to put up a fight.

Steve ended up winning the game entirely.

He’d never been one to gloat over a victory, but the look of utter betrayal on Clint and Natasha’s faces were so priceless, he couldn’t help but ask them to play again just to see how they would react.

* * *

 

Over the course of the next few days, Bucky was required to undergo a series of tests before he could be green-lighted for surgery. He spent most of his waking hours in the gym doing various exercises that tested the integrity of his bones and muscles, and when Tony was finally satisfied with the results, he moved to Bruce’s lab for a routine medical examination.

 Bruce took Bucky’s tissue samples, checked his blood pressure, and scanned him from head to toe in order to come up with a concrete way to attach the port of the prosthetic to his shoulder. It was slightly more than a standard medical check-up, but it wasn’t something Bucky hadn’t been through before. Things got more concerning, however, when Bruce brought up the fact that they needed to know exactly how long it took for Bucky’s wounds to heal.

SHIELD already had a record of the time it took for Steve to recover from a gunshot wound, but considering that Bucky acquired the serum through blood transfusion, there was a chance the results wouldn’t match up. It was a procedure that could easily teeter towards moral ambiguity if it was done by the wrong hands, but Steve had known Bruce long enough to trust him with his life.

The same couldn’t be said for Bucky.

He didn’t outwardly show it, but Steve could tell he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being poked at by a stranger while he was unconscious. Bucky didn’t hesitate to give his consent, but as soon as Bruce left, he worried at bottom lip with his teeth and wrung his hand on his shirt. Thankfully, Steve was allowed to be by his side on the day of the test.

Bruce injected Bucky with the same anesthetic they were going to use on the day of the surgery. It knocked Bucky out for almost four hours, and it gave Bruce enough time to make small incisions on different patches of his skin. It took a little longer for Bucky’s wounds to close compared to Steve, but it was still considerably faster than an average human’s healing rate. The incisions didn’t leave any traces of scars either, as Steve had predicted, and after a few meticulous calculations, Bruce estimated that it would take Bucky less than a week to fully recover from the surgery.

Helen Cho and her team arrived at the Tower the next morning to brief them about the procedure. According to her, the surgery was going to take place in two parts: the first part being the fusion of the metal port to Bucky’s shoulder, and the second part being the synthesizing of artificial skin over the prosthetic. Helen advised Tony to allow Bucky’s wounds to heal for a few weeks before attaching the arm to the port, and Tony took advantage of that extra time to get rid of what must have been the fifth prototype of the prosthetic.

“But that one’s already my favorite,” Bucky protested.

 “It could be better,” Tony said nonchalantly as he handed the prototype off to Dum-E. The robot immediately latched onto the prosthetic and pulled it close to itself, which was a comical sight considering that Dum-E’s entire body was an arm.

When it came to the day of the surgery, Steve was allowed to be with Bucky just before they injected him with anesthetics, but once they began the procedure, the doctors politely asked him relocate to the waiting area outside the lab.

It was a situation Steve had found himself in before, and there was a brief moment of disorientation where he thought he was back in the hospital, sitting numbly on one of the stiff plastic chairs while Rebecca was crying silently beside him. It took him a while to calm his heartbeat after the unbidden memory, so he decided to wait out the rest of the hours on the communal floor with Clint and Natasha to stave off an oncoming a panic attack.

The surgery was completed ahead of the scheduled time, and JARVIS notified him as soon as the doctors decided to allow visitors. It would take several more hours for the sedatives to filter out of Bucky’s system, but Steve waited by his bedside anyway, fully intending to camp out on the lumpy sofa bed that had been set up next to the window.

Bucky was too groggy to stay awake for more than five minutes, but he kept insisting he was fine even though he could barely string two sentences together. He wanted Steve to break him out of the medical wing so they could watch Star Trek in their apartment, and it took all of Steve’s effort to resist the pathetically adorable look that accompanied Bucky’s request.

In any other situation, Steve would have given into him immediately, but now the skin on Bucky’s left shoulder looked almost raw, and he couldn’t risk smuggling him out of the medical wing only to bring him back because of a complication.

The doctors must have grown sick of hearing Bucky whine. After a few hours of confinement, they wrapped his shoulder in gauze, signed his medical clearance, and instructed him to come back the next morning for further observations.

Bucky had refused to get on a wheelchair when one of the nurses offered to accompany him to their floor, and he kept squirming when Steve scooped him up into a bridal carry. The only way to appease him was to let him walk on his own, and that was how Steve ended up staggering through the hallway with Bucky draped over his shoulder like an overly large cape.

He was so focused on trying to keep Bucky from falling over that he failed to notice when the god of thunder himself stepped out of the elevator.

“Captain!” Thor called warmly, reaching out to clap Steve on the back and stopping halfway when he noticed Steve was supporting someone on his shoulder.

“Thor,” Steve returned warmly, although it sounded more like a realization than a greeting. It’s been two years since he’ d last seen Thor, and for the duration his absence, Steve was somewhat convinced that he had hallucinated fighting alongside a Norse god during the New York invasion. Seeing Thor now was slightly disconcerting, especially when he was clad in civilian clothes instead of his usual Asgardian regalia.

“It took you long enough to come visit,” Steve teased in attempt to scatter the awkward silence that had begun to loom over them.

“Ah yes.” Thor’s face darkened for a moment, but the look quickly melted away into a casual smile. “Apologies, my friend, I had a few matters to attend to before I was allowed the time to come back to Midgard, but I’m sad to say that I’m not simply here for a visit. Stark told me about the stolen scepter and I came here as soon as I was able. “

“Yeah, we’re working on that,” Steve said, feeling a little guilty that they weren’t putting enough effort into searching for the scepter. “No such luck yet.”

“Worry not, Captain,” Thor reassured. “The mind gem isn’t something that can easily be hidden. We will find it sooner or later, but in the mean time,” his gaze briefly strayed towards Bucky. “I would like to know who your companion is. Have I been gone so long that you’ve found someone to take my place?”

Bucky was trying to stand up a little straighter now that he’d been acknowledged, and Steve wrapped an arm around his waist to help prop him upright. “This is my uh…friend Bucky,” he said, unsure of how kind Asgardian customs were to homosexual relationships. He just hoped that Bucky was too out of it to realize he’d been introduced as a friend.

“Hi m’Bucky nice to meet ya,” Bucky slurred and nearly strangled Steve in the process of sticking his hand out to Thor. Steve stole a glance at him to check if he was mad, but Bucky seemed too engrossed with staring at Thor’s arms.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” Thor replied and shook Bucky’s hand the best he could while trying to avoid smacking Steve in the face. “That is some fine armor you have there.”

Bucky blinked owlishly at Thor until he processed what he meant. “Mhnn, this?” he craned his neck to inspect the metal port on his shoulder. “Stark’s making me a robot arm, but it’s not done yet so…” he trailed off all of a sudden and furrowed his brows as if he was gathering his thoughts. Then he smiled at Thor in a way that could only be described as flirtatious and went on. “You have nice arms by the way.”

“I’m sure my arms won’t rival what Stark is about to create for you.” Thor said wryly and returned the smile easily, although it was more amicable than anything else. Nevertheless, Steve felt a pang of jealousy settle sourly in the pit of his heart.

“Huh, I don’t think so,” Bucky continued, completely oblivious of Steve’s glare. “You’re a literal god and I’ll just be a guy with a metal arm. I’m basically Robocop and you’re—hey have you seen Robocop yet? I bet you haven’t. We should watch it—”

“I’m sorry,” Steve cut in and adjusted his grip on Bucky to angle him away from Thor. “He just got out of surgery and the sedatives are still affecting his brain-to-mouth filter. He probably didn’t mean anything he said. Right, Buck?”

“Um…no. I meant every single word.” Bucky was actively trying to wriggle away from him, but the iron grip that Steve had around his waist prevented him from moving any further.

Thor chuckled. “It’s alright. I find him quite charming.”

“You’re charming too,” Bucky said dreamily. “Has anyone told you that your eyes look bluer in person?”

“I don’t believe anyone has.”

“Well, they’re all idiots who should learn how to appreciate art. You’re eyes are beautiful, and you’re hair is—”

“Okay that’s enough,” Steve growled and dragged Bucky towards the elevator despite his loud protesting.  “Sorry to cut this short, Thor, but the doctors told me to put him to bed immediately after we leave the medical wing.”

“But” Bucky tried to turn around, presumably to check out Thor’s ass, but Steve scooped him up before he could.

“See you soon, my friends!” Thor said.

“Yeah, you too,” Steve replied noncommittally as he manhandled Bucky into the elevator.

Bucky put up quite a fight when Steve tried to wrestle him under the covers, but exhaustion eventually caught up with him, and he was asleep between one breath and the next.

Steve stretched out on the space next to Bucky and occupied himself with a book to keep from fuming. He was tempted to go back to the communal floor to vent his frustration to Natasha, but a more logical part of him knew that she would never let him live down the fact that he bitched about his boyfriend like a teenage girl.

It took another two hours before Bucky finally woke up, and by that time Steve had already combed through half the book without comprehending much of the plot. He felt Bucky shift beside him, but he ignored him and continued to browse through the book even though the story was as dull as an instruction manual.

“Steve?” Bucky called, sounding a little plaintive.

Steve responded by flipping over a page with enough aggression to tear it from the spine.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky prodded and clambered onto his knees so he could scoot closer to Steve.

Steve didn’t push him away, but he didn’t return the embrace either. “Do you remember what happened?” he asked.

Bucky began to shake his head but froze all of a sudden, his eyes slowly growing wider as the memories trickled through his thoughts. “Oh shit…did I just…hit on the god of thunder?”

“Yep,” Steve said, punctuating the _p_ with an exaggerated pop.

Bucky stared at him, seemingly too stunned to say anything else, but then he snorted and burst into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asked, outraged, but the expression on his face only made Bucky laugh harder.

“Are you _jealous_?”

Steve wasn’t supposed to grace that with an answer, but he couldn’t help himself. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, Steve, you’re adorable,” Bucky sighed as he collapsed back onto the pillows. “I was high out of my mind, and it’s always been my instinct to flirt with blonde dudes built like a brick shit house. I did that with you.”

“You weren’t _that_ forward,” Steve argued.

“I was forward! It just took you over a year to notice!” Bucky shot back. “Besides, I didn’t get mad at you when you flirted with Sam.”

“I never—” Steve paused as he recalled his first interaction with Sam. “I wasn’t flirting with him. I was lapping him because I was trying to impress you.”

“Who knows, maybe you were trying to impress _him_ , but was I mad at you?”

“That’s not the point,” Steve said, his voice edging into a growl, but he cut himself off abruptly once he saw how flustered Bucky was getting. “Sorry, Buck,” he sighed and stretched out an arm towards him as a peace offering. “This is no way to treat you after a surgery.”

“You owe me one then,” Bucky said as he melted gratefully into his warmth. “But I guess I owe you one too.” His hand slowly roamed up Steve’s leg until it found the waistband, but Steve grabbed his wrist before he could start undoing his pants.

“No strenuous activities,” Steve reminded him, but he pushed Bucky on his back anyway and straddled his hips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically this whole chapter was an excuse for me to write Bucky shamelessly flirting with Thor. Idk about you guys but blonde haired, blue-eyed muscle-ly men seem to be exactly Bucky's type.
> 
> Also, excuse the science in this chapter. I really had no idea what I was talking about.
> 
> Your comments and kudos give me life guys :D Feel free to drop by and say hi on [Tumblr](http://silvials.tumblr.com/).


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